Tale Of An Ice Prince: A Cabin In The Woods
by Alice Hudson
Summary: It's the 19th of October, and all the lights have gone out. Drawn to the woods, Shana finds more than just shelter in the single lone cabin hidden within the trees. Who exactly is the mad god who lives there? What is he planning? And what great fate has the Norns got planned for the both of them? Warning: contains strong language, sarcastic humour and a long story line.
1. A Cabin in the Woods

**A/N:** **Greetings, mortals! This is my second attempt at a story I have been planning since the first Avengers film came out (just think on that for a moment...) and I am so excited! Already, I am nearly a dozen chapters in, 60 pages long and not even close to so much as being a quarter way through it. That's right, I'm in it for the long run. As I said in the previous incarnation of this story (that just didn't do it for me), there will be about 5 books in total, all about the life of a single character of my own creation, this pretty much being the prologue of the story, which you don't HAVE to read, but I just HAD to write...**

 **But anyway, it's all part of the Avengers universe, but considering the time in which I first started planning it, the inclusion of Thor: The Dark World, Age of Ultron etc. are debatable. HEAVILY debatable, but minor plot points might still sneak in, you know, like Barton being a daddy and Coulson being alive. I also don't think I'll include the X-Men in this story due to them belonging to a different movie company, and so not actually being in the same cinematic universe, which just makes their inclusion seem too forced in my opinion. I haven't read the comics, and I will include some intentionally (and not so intentionally) screwed up Norse mythology in this, which I do not own. I also don't own Marvel and their characters, just to get that out of the way.**

 **And finally, in my long A/N, the WARNINGS: hermaphrodite frost giants (because it actually makes some sense, when you think about it...), strong language, kidnap, slightly OOC characters and, eventually much later on in the story, torture, implied rape and murder... but I'll warn you when they pop up : )**

 **But anyway, enjoy the story and favourite, follow and review!**

 **Chapter** **1**  
 **A Cabin in the Wood** **s**

Darkness cloaks the windows, the light inside the cheap rented room I live in being the only thing which prevents it in from entering my bedroom. I sit in front of my computer, staring blankly at the screen.  
They want us to complete a 5,000 word assignment answering some questions. Of course, it wouldn't have been too bad, if I actually gave two fucks about plants. As it is, though, I'm having some difficulty with several (dozen) of the questions.  
You see, I'm studying science in college. Not really anything specific, just science. I had to pick something, just like everyone else, and science seemed to be an interesting thing to learn with some pretty fun sounding jobs linked to it. That was before the fucking plants... and the maths, with its damn graphs, and those chemicals, and not to mention the none stop human biology monologue that I've been receiving and reciting since middle school...  
Let's just say that I'm starting to get a new idea on what I want to do with my life.  
With a frustrated huff, I turn off the computer (not even bothering to save what little work I have done) and look out the wiwith in boredom.  
It's raining, if the heavy beating on the window is any indication. Getting out of my chair, I slowly walk towards the glass, and peer out. It looks so dark outside that it seems like all the street lights have been turned off- not that it matters, as it's not like a great many people like to wander in the open or drive around here at night, anyway. Still, though... it is far too dark outside.  
Frowning, I pick up my coat and my cheap, tacky and wind damaged umbrella that I should really think about replacing (note to self: replace umbrella), walk down the stairs to the front door, and step out into the cold and wet darkness outside.  
Digging in my pocket, I pull out a torch and shine it wildly in the darkness. There is no moon or stars. it's pitch black, like as though the windows had been painted over. I breathe a nervous breath, shaking my head.  
 _This is a bad idea. Th_ _is is a bad idea_ _._  
I keep chanting this in my mind as I walk forward, torch pointing in all directions. I don't know why I keep walking, as every woman knows not to go out alone in the pitch black dark. But still, I do. Maybe it's my curiosity, maybe it's stupidity. I'm guessing it's both, though.  
I blindly walk on, having turned the the torch off once I realised how dangerous it might be to be seen holding such an obvious beacon on my whereabouts.  
 _Tu_ _rn_ _back!_ _Turn_ _back!_  
I ignore the sane, rational part of my mind, and keep walking forwards.  
Pretty soon, I start bumping into trees, tripping over roots and scratching myself on branches. The woods. I have wandered into the woods, and I have no idea where I'm going.  
"Damn, your survival instincts are shit, Shana!" I mutter as quietly as I can, finally coming back to my senses on how stupid this might be. Turning around, I begin to try and retrace my steps back home, with my arms outstretched to help guide my way.  
However, something catches my eye. A light, caught just out of the corner of my eye for a fraction of a second. Quickly, I whip around to face it, staring in its direction to see... nothing.  
I blink in confusion and wait for several seconds, before turning around again and taking another step forward.  
 _May_ _be I am going insane..._  
But yet again, I see a light as I cautiously step forwards. I slowly turn where I stand; I see it, just peeking out from behind some trees. That tiny speck taunts me with its warmth and promise of shelter from the rain, as I have long since ditched my tattered, broken old umbrella in the woods. Against my better judgment, I find myself slowly walking towards the light.  
I trip and fall multiple times, bumping into numerous trees and tearing my coat almost to shreds on the walk to the light, but finally I arrive... to a small wooden cabin. It's rather quaint, in a way. Kind of screams 'bachelor pad!' in the sense that few women would dare to dirty their skirts in this place, while most men would be living the dream here.  
The glowing windows illuminate the small, muddy clearing I stand in, while hinting at the occupant's presence.  
I walk through the soggy clearing towards the small cabin, whilst cringing at the mess my trainers (and worse- my socks!) were becoming. I continue walking, shivering from the rain and fear of what's inside, but unable to stop for some reason. The warmth just draws me in...  
 _I bet there's a nice fire_ _..._  
Finally, I reach the front door, and raise my shaking hand to knock.  
 _Hope they're not sex slavers or somethin_ _g_ _..._  
I knock on the door and with a sudden sharp jolt of pain, everything goes dark.  
 **-BREAK** **-**  
Dark. Why is it dark? What happened? A door... A wooden cabin... Darkness...  
 _Why the_ _fuck is it so dark?_ _!_  
Oh, yeah. Right. Because my eyes are closed.  
I open them as quick as a blink, hoping to see where I am, only to have to shut them right away again.  
"Ah! Bloody fucking light! Damn fucking arse ban lightbulbs fucking shitting-"  
"Such language!" a male voice I don't recognise reprimands from near by.  
"Yer fucking shitting bollocks!" I snap, trying to open my eyes again, but only capable of a squint.  
A poorly defined pale blob leans over my (extremely limited) field of view. The smaller, darker blob that I guess is its mouth widens as he speaks.  
"Who are you, and why are you here?"  
"Honestly? Fuck if I know!" I say, feeling quite exasperated as my inner voice squeals, _I told you! I told you this might happen_ _!_  
The blob, who is looking more and more human as time goes on, seems to frown at me.  
"You cannot remember your name or why you are here?" He asks. He's got a nice voice, though it sounds a bit like a snob, in my somewhat humble opinion.  
"Of course I remember my name! It's Shana White-Friar! Wait..." should I have told him my name? Shit! The man standing above me (whom I can now see rather well) smirks down at me.  
"Shana White-Friar? So your ancestors were god worshipping men, were they not?" he asks, but there's something in his tone that doesn't quite fit right with me, like he's amused...  
"Um, yeah... sure" I mumble. "Look, where am I? And why does my head ache?"  
"Evidently you are inside my temporary sanctuary," he says, gesturing to the room at large. I following the movement, and realise where I am. I'm inside the cabin- his cabin, apparently. It really does look quite cosy, though he makes quite the juxtaposition in this place. If first impressions mean anything, then he's quite... _cold_ , whilst the cabin is rather warm; he acts like royalty, but the cabin is rather modest; he is... actually really attractive and perfect in appearance, yet the cabin- while being homey and cosy- is anything but perfect. After all, dead wood is random and imperfect, but maybe that's the one thing this guy has in common with his... extremely unusual choice of dwelling.  
"It's a nice place," I say softly. Really, though, it _is_ a nice place for a single person to live in. It appears to be just one large room with a kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom all crammed into the small space, with a door off to the side which I'm sure holds the bathroom.  
"It's pathetic," the man says in disgust as he sneers at the room. "I would never have chosen to live here if the circumstances hadn't demanded it of me."  
"What circumstances?" I ask before I can stop myself. He turns to give me an icy stare.  
"I will give you two options, mortal," he says softly. _Seriously?_ _Mortal_ _?_ "Either you leave now and never tell a soul of this place, or you remain buried here forever," he says darkly. "Decide now."  
"But, what? Wait!" I say quickly. "You didn't tell me why my head aches-"  
"I incapacitated you," he says simply. I blink in surprise at his wording.  
"So... you knocked me out?" I ask carefully.  
"I suppose, in a manner of speaking," the man says. "Now leave!"  
"But what about the darkness?" I ask in confusion. He just simply raises an enquiring eyebrow.  
"The darkness!" I repeat. "It's why I stumbled upon your, er, _temporary sanctuary_. I looked out my window and couldn't see anything! Not even the sky! I wouldn't be able to go back home, not when I can't even see past the end of my own nose!"  
"So you saw this darkness, and you decided to investigate?" he asks slowly, kind of like he thought I was an idiot (and hey! Turns out he's right!)  
"Well, yeah, I guess," I mumble a little unconvincingly.  
The man stands straight, promptly leaving my field of view as he walks away. I try to sit up, only to find myself unable to.  
"Y-you didn't paralyze me, did you?" I ask, starting to feel a little scared of this man.  
"Just a temporary restraint," he says softly. "But I doubt you would be able to over throw me, so I suppose I could free you."  
 _"Doubt you could over throw me",_ _I'm a fucking ninja, mate_ _!_  
A strange feeling surrounds me. Just to test it, I lift my arm and wiggle my fingers in front of my eyes.  
"How did you do that?" I whisper in wonder. The bloke hadn't even touched me! "Who are you?" I ask softly.  
"You truly don't recognize me?" He asks in surprise, moving back into my field of view.  
"Well, no." I reply. "Or, I don't think so. Are you a model or something?" The man just shakes his head in stunned surprise.  
"I attacked one of your major cities and you don't recognise me?" he asks slowly (Okay, okay, I know; I'm an idiot. Message received and understood.) He leans in closer so I can get a better view of his face. "Do you still not recognise me?"  
I stare. I stare a little longer. "Erm... Harry Potter?" I venture a guess. He stares at me in astonishment.  
"You really do not know of me?" He seems quite surprised for some reason.  
"Well, no. I mean... was it London you attacked? Because then I might have heard of you on Facebook or something..."  
"No, I believe it was a city called... Manhattan," he says slowly, like he has never heard of Manhattan before.  
"Hm, well that explains it," I say matter of factly. "I hardly read the news as it is, but international news? Got nothing to do with me, so..."  
"How eloquent," he says with a slight sneer. "Well, allow me to inform you that I am Loki, Prince of Asgard and a god to you mortal people of Midgard. now to return us to our previous topic, wha-"  
"Woah, woah, woah, woah!" I interrupt, flapping my hands about to stop him from changing subject and sitting up abruptly. He promptly moves away to avoid collision, looking pretty pissed off for some reason.  
"You're Loki? As in _the_ Loki?" He nods, his pissed off look melting into a pretty smug one. "Like, Thor's brother?" I ask excitedly. That smug expression suddenly seems rather stiff.  
"I have no brother," he hisses angrily with a little sneer. "But yes, I am Loki of Asgard. Proclaimed by your ancestors as the immortal God of Mischief, Lies and-"  
"Chaos, yeah, but isn't that a little big headed of you? You know, introducing yourself in such a way?" I ask quickly. His expression darkens again.  
"Could you refrain from interrupting, before I decide to punish you, mortal?" He asks in anger. "And besides, it hardly matters. What I truly need to know is about this darkness you mentioned before. It removed all light, you say?" He asks.  
"Well, yeah, other than the light from your cabin and my torch. Why? Do you know what it was?"  
He moves to the windows in the cabin and peers outside.  
"The moon is clearly visible. From what you said, though, it sounds as though it might have been a slight shift in the pathways. That is most likely why I was brought here, and what led you to my sanctuary. But fear not, for it is highly inconsequential."  
"Wait, inconse-" I break off, confounded at just how blasé he's acting about this. "You just said that some weird temporal shift or something made me come to your cosy little cabin!"  
"It is a pathway," Loki says, pinching the bridge of his nose like as if he's starting to feel a head ache brewing. "Pathways are there to aid in travelling. I needed to escape my cell-"  
"Wait, you were in prison?" I interrupt swiftly. He gives me furious glare. "Sorry, sorry," I mutter.  
 _Remember, Shana. He. Is. A_ _. GOD_ _!_  
Loki keeps the glare going for a while, before continuing speaking. "Yes, I was imprisoned, or else Midgard would currently be under my rule. But as I was saying, before yet another interruption on your part," another sharp glare is sent my way, "I had to use a rather hazardous, time consuming method of travel to escape my prison cell. To achieve this, I had to open the universal pathways, which could cause me to travel to anywhere in the universe, instead of anywhere just in the Nine Realms. From what I was aware of during my journey, I should have been several thousand light years away from my prison, when the pathways changed." He pauses; I use the opportunity to open the flood gates, so to speak.  
"But why was it dark tonight?" I ask, he frowns at me disapprovingly.  
"That would be because I only arrived several Midgardian hours ago," he explains.  
"Wow, quick work in building this cabin, then!" I comment in appreciation.  
"Indeed, magic can truly go far," he brags.  
"But why did I see the darkness, though?" I ask.  
"How far away from here do you live?" He return-asks.  
"About ten minutes walk away," I say.  
 _S_ _hould I have told him that_ _?_  
"Then you would have been just in the radius of the effect's range. I am sure everyone else was either too ignorant, somewhere else or deeply asleep to have not noticed it." He says, growing increasingly calm.  
"Why are you telling me all this?" I finally ask suspiciously. "Aren't you supposed to try and kill me whilst screaming 'kneel to me ye puny mortal!'?" He smiles slightly. He moves away from the window, walking slowly towards me while remarkably resembling a powerful predator stalking after its gullible, foolish dinner. He stops walking barely a step away from me.  
"That is because, Shana of Midgard, I'm afraid to inform you that you shall never leave."


	2. Servitude

**A/N: I've decided to put up a new chapter of this story every Saturday, so if you like this story enough to check up on it, but not enough to follow it, then just keep your eye on the Avengers fandom every Saturday (about 12/1/2 O'Clock British time... -ish... no promises).**

 **Anyway, before I forget again, a huge thank you to my beta, Flame of the Darkness for helping to spot some minor errors throughout the story, and helping to inflate my ego in terms of my writing abilities. XD**

 **Final note: Fanfiction decided to do away with my page break (which was ten hyphons) for the previous chapter, so they'll be boldly announced as thus:**

 **-BREAK-**

 **Like to see Fanfiction mess _that_ one up...**

 **But anyhow, enjoy the story, and don't forget to join my slowly growing army of followers... and maybe favourite and review the story whilst you're at it, please... : )**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Servitude**

I freeze, staring at the crazy god in front of me. Because surely he is crazy; fucking insane, in fact!

"W-what do y-you mean by-by never leaving here?" I stutter. His smile widens to a grin.

"You either stay here and live, or I kill you," he says simply. I choke in fear at my options. "You see, Shana, I cannot allow you to tell anyone of my presence on your precious planet. I simply cannot risk it."

"But I won't tell anyone!" I blurt out quickly. He gives me a patronizing look.

"I cannot take the risk. You mortals talk quite freely, whether through this 'Facebook' you mentioned before, or behind the backs of those whom you are speaking of. I could kill you swiftly, if you would prefer it, or you could have the greatest gift of them all."

"Oh? And what would that 'gift' be?" I ask, eyeing him doubtfully.

"Your servitude," he states simply.

Right. Shit.

I leap to my feet, whip around so I face the door... and keep spinning, landing heavily on the floor.

"Ah, shit!" I shout, rubbing my tender, injured arse and grimacing at my dizzy nausea. Loki simply smirks.

"If you choose to stay, I assure you that I will heal any lasting damage you might be suffering from through the injury I inflicted to incapacitate you. I take care of my servants, after all."

"Alright," I say through gritted teeth. "I don't want to die, and I can't so much as stand still for ten seconds without nearly throwing my guts up, so fine. Just tell me -what am I being paid with?" I ask, slowly looking up at Loki, and trying not to cringe at the aching head ache and annoying nausea.

"Pardon?" Loki asks, for some reason completely thrown by what I just said.

"Paid. To be your servant. Unless by 'servant,' you actually meant 'slave,' and it just got lost in translation. Which brings me to another point -why are you speaking English if you come from another planet? And if it's because you have some weird translation device thingy, then why aren't you speaking American English? Or Australian English? Or any of the other forms of English? Why aren't you speaking French or German for that matter? And that brings me onto another matter, why did you leave it so long to come back? And why-"

"Silence!" Loki shouts, I wince at the sudden wringing head ache I get in response to that. "I will pay you by letting you live, mortal. You will be paid by food, shelter and the company of a god, for that is all you need and deserve."

"Well that's pretty mean," I mumble.

"Silence!" he shouts again, making me properly grip my aching head this time in pain. "Will you, or will you not stay to be my servant, mortal?"

Right, servitude or death. Let's press pause here for a sec. If I become his servant, I would have to wash all his dishes and dust the place daily, mop the floors, cook the meals... It's actually not too bad considering just how small this place actually is. The main thing that will surely hurt if I did this, is my dignity. That tattered, scarred little shard of dignity I have remaining, that prevents me from running around naked like a mad wild woman. But then again, what's one more little scar for my poor, zombified dignity?

As for death...

"Yeah, sure. I'll be your little slave girl," then, just for kicks, I wink at him. He stares at me in astonishment, before giving me a deadly glare.

"If you are to be my 'slave,'" he says softly, "then I will have to teach you the proper way to address people. Especially your masters."

"Right, yeah, but could you train me like My Fair Lady _after_ you've healed my little head wound? Because I think I've just found your lost twin hovering right next to you..."

 **-BREAK-**

An hour later and I'm lying on the couch, all nicely healed. Due to the late hour, there wasn't anything he wanted me to do, fortunately. So that just leaves me lying in the dark, refusing to focus on the god lying on the large bed on the opposite side of the room. I don't even know how he managed to fit that bed in here, and I don't want to know... though I hope it had something to do with magic.

Surprisingly enough, Loki has been very forth coming on information, and while he healed my wound with some nice flashy green magics, he only threatened to kill me twice! During that time, I've gathered some things to think about. He's a god- one who hates humans. He never said why, and I don't know if even he knows why he hates us so much, but he does. He talked a little bit about the attack on America (and I mean a _little_ ), before moving on to discussing my work load.

Like I reasoned before, not a big deal, but I can't help but excitedly anticipate tomorrow's dinner. After all, I can't cook for shit, and certainly for a princely god like him. We'll just have to wait and see on how he reacts to a nice, refreshing, _simple_ salad sandwich.

I shift on the couch, trying to find the perfect comfortable position. It's actually not too bad, this couch. But neither is it that good...

My mind drifts to the plant assignment. _The process of photosynthesis... the process of photosynthesis..._ wait... damn, so that was the answer to the question!

I fidgit restlessly and gaze outside the window. It's still dark, though I haven't a clue as to what time it is. However, the moon is still bright and visible, which means that not much time must have passed.

I stare at it, and pretend that it's staring back at me, but not in a bad way. More like a protective and watchful kind of way...

My eyes grow heavy after a while until the moon carefully pushes me to a restful sleep.

 **-BREAK-**

Hours later, my eyes flick open, only to see that it's still dark outside. What am I doing awake so early? My answer comes in the form of a stiff-backed god staring regally at me.

"You are to prepare my meal immediately," he says, without so much as a grumbled 'morning'. "Everything you require is already stored in the kitchen. Once I have eaten, we shall discuss your work for the day."

"But, wait," I say, frowning at him. "You only said once _you've_ eaten. You didn't say anything about me," I complain. I always feel ravenous in the mornings...

His eyebrow twitches slightly as something somewhat resembling appreciation quickly flickers in his eyes. But just as quickly as it enters his eyes, it is gone.

"You will eat the leftover scraps," he says pompously, before turning to walk out the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" I call out. "How do I tell you when breakfast is ready?" But it's too late. He's out the door.

"Dick head," I mutter under my breath. The door opens again.

"Shana," Loki says, standing in the doorway, and glaring at me once more.

"Yes?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"I must warn you, as a greater being than yourself-" here I roll my eyes, "-I am gifted with far greater senses than any mortal you will ever know," he says with a slight hint of warning in his tone. My body immediately tenses. "I will let it pass for now, as you had not known. But if I ever catch you insulting me again, you will be severely punished for it." With his warning dished out, he leaves again. Pompous prick.

I walk to the kitchen, staring at the cupboards. There is no fridge, or even an oven. There are only a few counters, cupboards and a fireplace that makes up the small kitchen. I sincerely hope he doesn't expect me to use that fireplace to actually _cook_ him anything, or else it'll be interesting to see if gods can suffer from food poisoning...

I swiftly make my way around the kitchen, getting to know all the places where everything might be stored. I quickly find the cutlery, dishes, herbs and spices, fruit and veg, and... meat?... After opening half the cupboards, I come across one that is layered with meat inside of it, with the cupboard next to it being in no better condition. The meat doesn't seem to be rotting or anything. In fact, it seems pretty good to me, so I'm sure he most probably is using some form of magic on the meat to keep it edible.

At least I know that he definitely _does_ expect me to serve him a good, four course buffet...

With a dejected sigh, I draw out the bread (at least he has _some_ things I can work with) along with some veg, aiming to make an at least passable salad sandwich.

After making four sandwiches in total (he did tell me I only get to eat the leftovers), I cut them each in halve before serving them on a large plate on top of the small table set close to the kitchen area.

"It's ready," I call. After all, he did brag about his 'superior senses'.

The front door opens as my lord and master comes strutting inside... only to stop and stare at the table.

"Eat up," I say pleasantly. Now, I know that my cooking abilities are hardly up to par with some Asgardian super nanny, but the way he looks at the sandwiches...

"Look, I didn't poison them," I say, reaching out for one of the halves to prove it.

"Stop," he snaps. "You are not to touch the food unless I allow you to," he snarls. I quickly raise my hands in surrender as he moves to sit at the table, pulling the large plate towards himself. I watch in wonder as he eats one of the sandwiches, which is then followed by another... and another... Finally, the last sandwich disappears from sight.

"Bloody Hell," I whisper in shock and awe. "And to think that I stuffed them full of crap..."

Pushing his chair back, Loki stands to his full height (all six foot something or another) and commands, "you are to polish the few weapons I was able to bring with me during my escape." I stare in shock.

"Well?" He asks, seemingly annoyed.

"Yeah, um... aren't you afraid that I might try to kill you?" I ask hesitantly.

"The fact that you asked proves to me that you won't," he says with a smirk. I glare.

"Well, what makes you think that?"

"Because, Shana, saying it alerts the captor of what you plan to do," he says calmly. "For you having mentioned it proves that you had not truly thought of overpowering me, or at least not yet. And besides," he says, his eyes glittering with mischief, "you would never succeed in overpowering a millennia old god." With that said, he walks towards a wardrobe, pulling it open and bringing out several swords and daggers. "You are to clean, polish and sharpen these weapons to a point in which I find acceptable," he demands.

"But I don't know how to-" I start saying, but he's already pulling out other items from some drawers. He throws them to me.

"I will show you once, and that will be all," he says a bit impatiently.

It doesn't take him long. Luckily, he has some powerful cleaners for cleaning the weapons, the really tough part came with polishing and sharpening them. After he shows me how to do it, he stands up to walk out of the door again. Once he reaches the door, however, he stops to look back at me.

"Once you are finished," he says, "simply say it and I shall give you your next task." With that said, he's out the door again.

Well, this wasn't _quite_ what I had expected...

 **-BREAK-**

A while later, all eight of the giant splinters were sparkling like stars.

"There," I say to the room. "You happy now?"

"Not quite," a voice says from right behind me.

"Ah! Fuck!" I shout, shooting away from a smirking God of Mischief.

"However, it should do for now," he says dismissively. "For right now, I intend to teach you the proper way to speak."

"Yeah, well you can fuck off, mate!" I snarl. "You ain't turning me into My Fair Lady, you posh prick!" Loki winces at my (kind of intentional) butchery of the English language.

"Indeed," he says, a look of disgust crossing his face. "However, for now I've finished everything I had planned for today, and I am ahead of schedule. As such, we will begin our lessons now. Follow me." He leads me to the couch, where he then sits down. As I go to sit next to him, he stops me by grabbing my wrist, shaking his head at me while glaring furiously again.

"Oh, come on!" I whine.

"Servants are to know their place," Loki states forcefully.

"I'm not your pet," I say savagely. His glare strengthens.

"No, but you _are_ my servant. As you have never been a servant before and this is your first day of working for me, I will refrain from punishing you. However, know that other masters would not be quite so forgiving."

"The only thing that's stopping you from calling me your slave is the lack of price tag," I grumble. He sneers.

"Tolerating you and your constant complaining is more than enough cost," he hisses.

"That's hardly fair," I growl. "But anyway, if you don't want me to sit next to you, where should I sit?" I ask, looking around for chairs. My eyes zone in on the dining chair.

"On the floor," he says simply. I turn to scowl at him.

"Whilst there's a perfectly good chair sitting right over there?" I ask, pointing at said chair. Loki just stares blankly at me. "Fine!" I snap, flopping down inelegantly on the floor. "There! Better?"

"Yes," is his simple reply, sending me a quick exasperated glare.

"And you know," I say in a quieter tone, "if you keep glaring like that, it'll stick." Loki just looks at me in blank astonishment.

"And what meaningless nonsense are you speaking of this time?" he asks with a long suffering sigh. I shrug.

"Just something every mother says to their kids. I never really saw why they said it, but I have to say, the amount of times you've glared and scowled and frowned at me in one day- and not even a whole day at that!" I shake my head in faux awe. His eyes grow a bit of a dangerous tinge to them.

"We are not here to discuss such matters," he says stiffly. "First, we shall work on your speech. No servant of mine will speak like a..." he pauses for something he can liken me to. He blinks in surprise, "I can honestly say that I do no know of anyone who speaks like you do."

"Aww, darling, you say the sweetest things!" I say, plastering a cheeky grin on my face.

"We shall start by pronunciation," he says, completely ignoring my comment. "Let us begin with the comment you made earlier, that I," he clears his throat, before doing a startlingly good impression of me, "'ain't turning me into My Fair Lady!'"

"Fuck!" I gasp. "How'd you do that?"

"Yes, we will get to _that_ part of your speech soon enough," he says with much disgust.

And so it went, for what felt like several hours (I don't know, all I have is the Sun to keep me time-coordinated, which is apparently still going strong if the light flooding the cabin is anything to go by). During that time Loki tried _valiantly_ to teach me how to talk like a royal sla-ahem- _servant_. I honestly still don't know why he hasn't offed with me yet, which I'm sure is actually something he himself wondered throughout the speech session...

"I really ought to kill you now, and be rid of your impudent self," he snarls after I, once again, swore enough to make an aged sailor blush.

"Nah, you'd miss me, sweetheart," I say with a wink. He sneers at me (I'm honestly starting to think it's how he shows affection to people he secretly likes), before standing up from the couch.

"You are hopeless," he says softly. "I will try, nonetheless, to make you at least somewhat acceptable. But by tomorrow, I will start punishing for misbehaviour. For now, there is nothing more I need of you," Loki says as he heads for the door.

"Hey, hang on a moment!" I call, he doesn't stop though, closing the door behind himself. "Hey, I know you can still hear me! What should I do? There's nothing for me to do!" And there really doesn't seem to be anything; no TV and no computer. Looking around, I wonder whether he truly expects me to just sit on the floor and wait obediently for him. Just then, my eyes catch sight of something: a bookshelf, loaded with some pretty ancient looking books. I sigh, _could be worse_ _..._

Walking to the bookshelf, I look at the possible titles for me to read, only to find with some disappointment that almost none of them had titles.

 _Pfft, figures._

I pick a random book and take a seat on the dining chair to start comfortably reading the book... only to find it's in some foreign language.

Rolling my eyes, I get up to put the book back exactly where I found it, and picked up a different one. One peak inside showed that that book is also in another language. Frowning, I check all the books- from start to finish- and find to my great annoyance that almost all of them are in some other language. Only three of the books are in English, and one of them is an extensive look at physics (of all things), another on religions (both modern and ancient), and the final one being a short story on a boy orphaned during a war and adopted into an unloving family from the opposing side. It looks well read, if the wrinkled paperback spine and worn pages are anything to go by...

Making a decision, I decide to play it safe with the religion book. After all, the book about the kid seemed a little out of place, and just screams sentimentality to me. As I sit at the chair once again and get settled down to read the giant tome, I can't help but wonder who gave the smaller book to Loki, because surely he didn't get it himself...

 **-BREAK-**

By the time Loki decides to return to the cabin, it is dark outside. I must say, it comes as a surprise when I realise that I had read through twenty pages of the giant book (what? It isn't just large in thickness! Besides, the writing's small...)

But anyway, he walks through the door, appearing quite frustrated and annoyed. He scowls when he sees me innocently sitting at the chair, reading the thick book.

"You are not to sit on my chair, nor touch any of my possessions," he snaps, eyes flitting quickly to bookshelf, before resting on me with murderous intent.

"Yeah, sure, sorry," I mutter, slamming the book as I screech the chair back to stand up (all of which making Loki visibly grit his teeth and clench his fists in anger. Poor bookworm). "Sorry, mate," I say again, returning the book as gently as I could (as in, not at all), onto the shelf. "I just couldn't resist. I'm sure you know what absolute, desolate boredom is like..." I say dramatically.

"Just prepare my meal," he snaps.

Gosh, it's that time? I head to the kitchen, and stop in the middle of the little area. _What should I make?_ I haven't exactly got a gourmet cook book located inside my skull. I can't even cook chicken right, for fuck's sake!

"Shana," Loki says softly from the couch (which the damn arsehole is lounging on serenely).

"Yes?" I ask shortly.

"Prepare me a chicken, along with honeyed ham sprinkled with nuts, and some fruits, if you will," he requests regally.

 _What the f-_

"Yeah, but no," I deny. "I'm sorry, but I can't even so much as cook chicken nuggets without burning down the entire kitchen, let alone the whole _fucking_ creature!" I snap. "And as for the ham, you might as well say your goodbyes to your beloved 'sanctuary' now, because a fuck load of good this'll do for you! So I'm afraid that for as long as I'm the chef in this kitchen you're gonna have to make do with salad, sandwiches and fucking cereal, you get me?" I rant. By the end of the rant, Loki is looking quite furious. He stands up, walks towards me until he looms over me.

"You lie," he says softly. "From what I have read and been told, mortal women are the home makers. You cook, clean and pride yourselves with your duties to the house." He's got to be kidding me. But as I look into his serious gaze, I see that he's not joking at all.

"In what century did you find that out?" I ask. "Because it certainly isn't from here!"

"Yes, I can see that," he snaps back. "In all the realms, none of them has women as rude and disrespectful as yourself!"

"Welcome to lower-class Britain, princess!" I snarl in his face. At this closer proximity, it really gives me the chance to see that there seriously is nothing wrong with his face. _Nothing_. No scars, no moles... I'm a thousand years younger and already you could make constellations out of my acne scars alone.

 _Fucking gods._

"So, what would you like for dinner, princess," I ask challengingly. "And don't think my stomach had forgotten about the lack of breakfast!" Damn thing had been annoying me for ages. With the thought of food, it lets out a fierce roar, and I give Loki a pointed look. He gives me a deadly stare.

"Prepare what you made this morning, though this time make twice the amount," he demands, before heading to the bookshelf to grab one of the books.

 _Twice the amount?_ I mouth. That would be eight sandwiches! Just how much do these guys eat in that golden palace up in the stars?!

But I do as he says and get straight to work. After half an hour (and some serious lettuce butchery, and many lost tomatoes who fought valiantly against the edge of the knife... only to somehow get squished), I finally dish up an over flowing plate of sandwiches.

"Eat up," I say, watching as Loki gets up from the couch, returns the book he was reading through and settles down at the small table to eat. Yet again, he eats an ungodly-erm... sorry, a _godly_ amount of food (I know, I go' dem punz!), leaving two and a half sandwiches left.

"Adequate," he rates at last. "But it will suffice for now."

"Glad to appease your lordship," I say sarcastically. "May I now nibble, please?" I ask.

"Indeed, you may _eat_ ," he says, getting up from the chair and eyeing the books once more.

I make quick work of the sandwiches, leaving behind half a sandwich, which I can't eat what with my meagre feminine mortal diet.

"What time is it?" I ask Loki after I have finished with washing the dishes. It looks late, and I'm starting to feel quite tired.

"About nine at night," he murmurs, turning a page in his chosen book.

Well, 9 O'Clock is a little early for me, but it has been quite exhausting for me, both physically (bearing in mind that the majority of my existence is generally spent playing MMORPG games on my computer whilst swearing at morons, and being in college), and emotionally. It is, after all, quite stressful living with an apparently insane god; though he doesn't seem all that deranged to me... just a little spoilt, in fact.

"Mind if I turn in for the night?" I ask.

"No," he says sharply, turning another page (shit, he reads fast!) "Wait until I have finished what I am reading." His eyes scan the pages lightening fast. It looks like he reads entire portions of text at a single glance.

He turns another page.

"I hope that by 'wait until I'm finished reading', you don't mean reading the _entire book_!" I say. He simply smirks and turns another page. That's another thing, he seems to be a very good multitasker, judging by his ability to completely hear what I am saying and still continue reading at pretty much the same pace... or, at least I _think_ that he's listening to what I'm saying...

With a huff, I sit back onto the dining chair.

"On the floor when I am present, mortal," Loki says absently as he turns another page. With another huff, I get off the chair and sit as far away from the spoilt, annoying god as I can. After a _long_ while (I'm pretty sure the bastard drew it out on purpose), Loki finally closes the book and nods in my direction. I stand up, shaking off the aches and the pins and needles I suffer from sitting there so long (turns out he _had_ decided to read the whole book), and move to sit on the couch. Then I realise something.

"Erm... is there any... err..." I trail off, looking around.

"Speak up, mortal," Loki says sharply.

"Pyjamas?" I ask.

"... What?"

"Do you have any pyjamas," I specify. "You know, for me to wear? Or should I wear this till the day I die?" I ask, looking down at my "pug life" t-shirt and skinny jeans with uncertainty. Loki also looks, a disgusted sneer fixed on his face.

"I do have spare clothes," he says slowly. "Though none for women."

"Right," I say in disappointment. "So... there's no shirts of yours I can borrow as night dresses or-?"

"Sleep, Shana," Loki growls, putting out the candles that dotted the cabin (what idiot even lights those miniature fires inside a _wooden cabin?_ )

Grumbling, I settle on the couch for sleep, ignoring the discomfort I feel in wearing the same, dirty clothes from last night.

 _Remember Shana, it could be worse. It could be much worse... at least he offers some good eye candy..._


	3. Rebel's Punishment

**Chapter 3**

 **Rebel's** **Punishment**

The next day, I wake up feeling... surprisingly fresh. I sit up slowly, noticing that it is, yet again, still dark outside. Loki must have woken me up.

"I've taken the liberty to clean your clothes, as well as yourself. You were starting to irritate me with your stench." Speak of the Devil...

Well, that explains the weird clean feeling I have, then...

Hey...

Wait a second...

"Did you just say you... _bathed_ me?!" I ask in shock.

Loki smirks, leaning forward slightly as he says in a conspiratorial tone, "indeed, but fear not. It truly wasn't anything spectacular. Quite average, in fact," he says matter of factly.

 _Oh, you bastard!_

"Alright, alright!" I snap. "Just because you're Woman's Weekly's Sexiest Psychopath, doesn't mean you have to rub in just how average I am," I say just a little bit self consciously, wrapping my arms around myself protectively. Loki just raises an eyebrow at my little outburst. I blush a little, but stay strong about my angry discomfort.

"What was that about this 'Woman's Weekly'?" Loki questions, a devilish smirk on his face.

"Pff, well, it's not important, is it?" I ask indignantly. "Just a group of old ladies who thought you looked pretty, princess." Loki glares at the nickname.

"Just prepare my breakfast," Loki commands.

"Okay," I say sulkily. "Do you have any cereals, by any chance?" He just stares at me with a blank look on his face. You know, that is actually almost creepy...

"I'll take that as a no, then?" I ask, just making sure that he's not giving me a blank stare, just for kicks.

"No, I do not," he says. "Just provide me with fruits. Tonight I'll show you how to cook meats fit for a god," he says, heading towards the bookcase and pulling out an incredibly thick book after a few moments consideration.

You know... I might be imagining things, but it looks almost like those books have changed since yesterday...

As I walk to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, an idea strikes me.

"Could you teach me some of those languages?" I ask abruptly. Loki looks at me, a single eyebrow raised. "It's just that, I couldn't help but notice that you have an awful lot of books, and only three of them I can actually read." Loki seems to think it over, before a patronising smile overcomes his features.

"Perhaps, if you behave yourself," he says. "Something which you have been performing rather poorly at, Shana. I will have to punish you later for that. Fortunately for you, though, I am rather busy," he says, returning to his reading.

 _Yeah, sure, busy reading some elvish porn or something!_

Although, I do wonder if elves are real, and if there actually is such a thing as elvish porn...

 **-BREAK-**

After an 'adequate' breakfast of fruit salad and a few chores (just scrubbing the floors and cleaning the surprisingly modest little bathroom, complete with a toilet, sink and bath tub), I find myself anxiously waiting for the fore mentioned punishment. Loki walks briskly into the kitchen, rummages around a couple of cupboards and under a counter. I hear something metallic hit the floor.

 _Oh, shit! He's gonna kill me!_ I think wildly. My heart starts pounding loudly against my rib cage as panic starts to set in. Looking around the room frantically, my eyes settle on the front door.

 _Maybe I can escape in time!_

But it's too late.

Loki returns with a smirk on his face, after placing the chair in the middle of the kitchen. Next to the chair, I see a large metal bucket.

Immediately, horrible and gruesome images of mutilation and torture come to mind.

 _Shit! Shitshitshitfuck!_ He's _Loki!_ I should have just kept my damn mouth shut, now that crazy son of a bitch is going to horribly torture and kill me!

He gestures to the chair. "Sit," he firmly says. I reluctantly comply and walk to the chair; I sit down, refusing to look into the bucket. Loki walks behind me.

 _This is it_ , I can't help but think. _I'm gonna die. Goodbye Mom, Ricky, Lexie, Basil, and-_ I cut off from saying my farewells to my pathetically short list of loved ones when of all things, a _cloth_ is given to me by Loki.

"Polish them until they reflect my image," he says, nodding to the bucket. Confused, I look down to see... apples. Lots of apples.

"Fucking apples," I sigh in relief.

"Of course. What did you think it was?" He asks with an annoyingly knowing smirk on his face.

"Nothing, nothing," I mumble. Loki continues staring for a while, before finally standing up straight.

"Polish me five buckets of apples," he demands. "The bucket will replenish itself as you go through the apples. Those that are finished, you place in-" he draws out another large bucket from beneath a counter "-here. While you work on your punishment, I'll enchant some containment for the new, polished apples."

"Right," I say a little weakly, watching as he walks out. Sighing, I look down at the apples. Not a bad punishment, compared to pretty much everything that was flying through my mind. Seriously, though, the second that he told me it was time for my punishment, whilst looking at me with those cold dark eyes, I thought I was a goner. God of Mischief, indeed!

Digging through that counter that he pulled the other bucket from, I pick out another bucket, and fill it with water. I never really bother with polishing apples, seeing as I tend to just eat them, but I'd imagine they'd sparkle better after just being washed.

I pick up the first apple, wash it and start 'polishing' it. They really are beautiful apples, a nice deep red instead of those ugly red/green cheap hybrids, and they're big, too. Before I know it, instead of examining a dull, deep red apple, I find myself examining a well defined blob on the surface of a beautifully reflective apple. Gently, I place the work of art in the empty bucket on the other side of the chair, and reach for the next apple.

On it goes, one apple after another. My mind starts to drift quickly over to home; to my Mom, who is probably starting to get a little worried over the lack of communication, but is likely thinking that it is nothing and that I'm most probably tired and over working myself. That I'll call home soon enough. How long will it be before she starts to worry? Before she calls the college to ask them if they've seen me, only to get a negative reply from them?

Then there's my brother, Alex (or Lexie, as I like to teasingly call him). He's only four years younger than me, and is most probably playing one of those games of his, rather than working on the homework I'm sure he has. I wonder if he's waiting for me to sign onto one of the games we like to play together...

As for Dad, he's not around. Left when I was seven, leaving me more of a father figure to my brother than Dad was. Mom never moved on, though she has got a male best friend, who's been sort of like a surrogate Dad for me and Alex. His name is Ben. Not short for Benjamin or anything like that, it literally is just Ben. He's most probably settling down after a very busy day at The Pizza Place, just enjoying the rest of the day to himself.

How will they react tomorrow? Or the day after? How will they react after a week, or a month, or however much longer I stay here, when the truth finally hits home for them?

Perhaps I should start putting some thought towards escaping, but I've never been that strong or fast or courageous. He'll kill me with no effort, just a simple snap of the fingers. Should I risk it? I could do it now...

But no. I keep forgetting that he's a god, but this time forgetting that fact would kill me, and I find that I'm really quite attached to living, thank you very much! Besides, servant, slave, or even a fucking consort, who else can say that they lodged with a god? Better yet: a magical, royal _Viking_ god!

I look down at the bucket full of polished apples next to me, and smile apathetically as the apples start to vanish. Maybe it will get better. It's already not as bad as I would have pictured it if someone had mentioned this sort of scenario before. Loki's not too bad, just a little spoilt, and arrogant, and basically just an all round jerk. But he hasn't hurt me yet, so there's a plus!

Speaking of Loki, I peer up at him as he reads through another book of his (he's long since skimmed through the other book. I don't think he was actually aiming to read the whole thing that time...) He takes a bite out of the gleaming red apple that he's holding as he turns over to the next page.

Well, at least I know that my apples are actually getting eaten...

His eyes flick up in my direction, prompting me to fumble for another apple out of the eternally full bucket. I swear, though, that I can see him smirking at me out of the corner of my eye.

The apples seem to go on forever. When he had told me that the bucket replenishes with apples, I had thought that he meant that once it was empty, more would flow in, _especially_ after he said to polish 5 buckets of apples. How will I know when enough's enough? Will the apples stop appearing? But I've been cleaning these things for ages, and the bucket still looks full!

After a while, I start to appreciate why he considered this a good punishment. While I am bored most of the time these days, this is a whole new level of torture. I might even call it psychological, because no matter how many apples I clean, that _fucking_ bucket still looks full! By now, both of my arms are killing me from the constant circular rubbing on the apples, and I'm starting to grow tired of it all.

As I put another apple in the other bucket, I look down to the unpolished apple bucket, and I am so _relieved_ to see that the amount of apples in the bucket is actually going down! I speed up my efforts, knowing that now there is an actual end in sight.

What feels like ages later, I see the bottom of the bucket. _About bloody time!_ I happily finish off with polishing the final few apples, and grin at Loki in victory.

"I'm finished!" I cry out in happiness. "Done them all!"

Gently closing his book, he stands up from the couch and gracefully walks towards me.

"Are you?" He asks, looking into my bucket. "Really, though? _Are_ you finished?" He asks seriously. I frown in confusion; can't he see that the bucket's empty?

"Yeah, I am sure, I mean look!" I point at the bucket, my eyes still fixed on Loki in confusion. "I polished all the apples, just like you said. I've _done_ the punishment, can't you see that the bucket's emp...ty..." I trail off, finally looking at the bucket.

 _Holy fucking-_ the damn thing's full again! I look up at Loki with furious confusion. He smirks at me, his eyes twinkling slightly.

"It doesn't look empty to me, Shana," he says softly. "It appears that the magic was just a little... _delayed_."

Ooooh, you _prick!_

"Now, if you won't mind, call me once you have _actually_ finished," he says, returning to the couch to read his book comfortably. I shift on the hard wooden seat, reminded of just how uncomfortable I'm feeling. I glare at the bucket- the traitorous _full_ _bucket-_ and vow that when I am free, I will never touch another fucking apple again.

Finally, after what feels like centuries since I had that rag handed to me by my jailer, I have finished with the apples. I stand up from the chair, rubbing my back and my arse in the hopes to ease out some of the aches and pains. Loki looks up from the book.

"I take it that you have finished?" He asks, lowering his book slightly to face me properly.

"Yep!" I say, annoyed, but still kind of proud.

"Are you sure?" He asks mischievously. My eyes widen in anger and fear as I whip around to face the bucket, but no. Still blissfully empty.

 _Yeah, and you better fucking well_ stay _empty!_ I turn to fix a dark glare at Loki, who is giving me a pretty evil grin by now.

"Yes, it's fucking well empty," I snap.

"You really ought to watch your language," he chastises as he puts his book aside to stand up. He walks towards me slowly, "lest you want to be punished, again."

Okay... the way he said that, either that was a threat, or a pick-up line...

No, of course it was a threat, mind out of the gutter, Shana! Get your mind out of there _now!_ Wow, I'm bad when I'm bored...

But shit, I hope the son of a bitch can't read minds...

But he doesn't seem to show any reactions to my thoughts, and instead says, "It is rather late, now. You truly did take far too long just to polish a few buckets of apples," I open my mouth to argue, but he raises his hand to stop me before I can. "However, there is still enough time for me to show you how to prepare dinner for tonight."

He doesn't really give me much choice. With a command, he has me bringing out some chicken ("the simplest of meats," he says), and some salad, apparently starting small.

"I will only show you this once, mortal," he warns me. Right, once, as if that'll work out well!

He shows me how to prepare it (a whole chicken, not just the drumsticks or the nuggets this time!) before putting it over the fire in the fireplace. Meanwhile, I work on the salad, causing him to cringe.

"How can you prepare the simplest of dishes incorrectly?" he asks in bewilderment. I shrug.

"I don't know. Guess I'm just one of a kind..." I say, earning a slight sneer from him. Yeah, I guess it wasn't exactly my best of works...

After a second chicken was added to the giant fireplace (and after a near panic attack from me when I caught sight of a few embers shooting out onto the _wooden_ cabin floors), it was time to eat.

Loki manages to eat one whole chicken, and most of the other one along with half the salad before I was allowed anywhere near the table.

"How do you eat so much?" I ask abruptly. "Those chickens were _huge!_ "

"Most Asgardians have large appetites," he says softly. "While I do not have quite as large of an appetite as many of them do, I still require a lot of food."

"No shit," I say, kind of impressed as I look at the far emptier looking plate. Slowly, I sit down and start on the leftovers.

Reluctantly, I've got to say that the chicken's alright, though in my opinion, it would taste even better if it were oven cooked.

Then, it's time for bed. As Loki had previously said, I took far too long to polish those apples (not my fault!) So, as Loki enters the bathroom to prepare for bed, I lie down on my couch-turned-bed and settle for the night, hoping that maybe, just maybe I'll be able to see my own wardrobe again someday soon...

 **-BREAK-**

 _I open my eyes, to find myself in a beautiful field full of vibrant green grass._

 _That's weird... wasn't I..._ somewhere _before?_

 _I slowly sit up, taking note of the forest behind me. It seems pretty dark and ominous, but I feel an urge to go forward. I stand up, turn towards it and start walking._

 _The trees seem a little clingy, but nothing bad happens as I walk. After a short while, I start to hear a little chirping sound coming from beside me. I look down, and see... a mushroom. A giant, walking brown mushroom, standing next to me with fat little feet inside black leather boots. It chirps again, looking at me_ _(_ _or it seems to be looking at_ _me)..._

 _"Oh, alright," I say to the mushroom, jerking my head forward. "Come on, then." With a little squeal, it jumps in delight, and follows me as we follow the (suddenly there) path forwards._

 _Finally, we make it to the village. The mushroom skips ahead of me into the village._

 _"Wait! No! Mushroom!" I shout, reaching out to him. The villagers might eat it! But they seem happy and content, some even stroking the mushroom like as if he were a dog! I laugh, the cheerfulness really being quite contagious. Then it's as though a dark film is placed over the world. I frown and turn to one of the villagers next me, who suddenly seems quite serious._

 _"Do you know where I can find the Magic Governer?" I ask him, he points towards an old, rotting shack at the end of the village_ _; t_ _he path towards it being wider than it was before. I walk forward, a bad feeling settling over me._

 _I'm standing in front of the door, I reach out, touch the handle to open the door, and-_

"Mnyaaah!" I scream. Loki raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"If you are done with your attempt to cost me my hearing, I would very much like my breakfast now," he says softly, still hovering over me, an inch from my face. I nod my head shakily, and he leans back.

"Good," he says, walking off, but I can't help but catch that little devious smile on his face.


	4. Suspicious Behaviours

**Chapter 4**

 **Suspicious Behaviours**

A week has gone by since that first moment when I opened my eyes and and met the beautiful face of death and slavery. It goes much the same rhythm as those first couple of days, where I wake up before the crack of dawn, do some housework, either read a little or spend my spare time polishing apples (which is most of my time), and then nearly burn the kitchen down on occasion. Loki has finally realised that he can't trust me with the meat, and so has finally taken to joining me in the kitchen (or else, he'd be stuck with bread and salad forever...)

This morning is no different to any of the others. I wake up early, not even needing prompting any more. I honestly think that Loki has seriously messed with my sleeping pattern. Automatically, I walk into the kitchen and prepare the food, chopping the salad while I wait. As I wait, I look about the cabin, not finding a trace of Loki anywhere.

 _That's odd... I wonder if he's gone outside..._

As if summoned, he walks in through the door, looking a little drenched. However, he dries himself down with a wave of his hand, and walks towards the kitchen. He looks at the food I have already taken out of the cupboard, and frowns a little.

"Not quite what I would have chosen, but it will do," he says, reaching for the ham to prepare it.

This man has seriously turned my definition of what breakfast should be made up of completely on its head. He likes sweetened meats and fruit for breakfast. While this isn't overly wrong, it's still a little odd when in comparison I'm used to cereal. But then again, a full English breakfast is composed of bacon, black budding, fried eggs and sausages, along with the mushrooms, tomatoes, hashbrowns, toast and beans, so who am I to judge?

As we prepare the food, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and I can't help but wonder where he goes when he goes outside everyday.

There are several reasons that it could be; each one is not that brilliant. He could be plotting another attempt on planet Earth, for example. Or maybe he's trying to return to Asgard. Perhaps he's planning some horrific torture session with me, or planning to kidnap my Mom to use her against me so that I finally start behaving just the way he wants me to... I just don't know.

The more I think of it, the more uneasy I feel. I try to remind myself that I could just be jumping to conclusions, but I honestly can't think of any good things he could realistically be doing out there.

After some internal debating, I finally decide to ask him myself. If he kills me, hopefully it will be fast, but he'll most probably just keep silent, which is in my opinion just as suspicious.

"So..." I say slowly, only to have my confidence crumble completely.

 _He could just be doing some gardening, or shopping at Sainsbury's or Tescoes or something..._

"Yes?" he asks while keeping a close eye on the meat, which looks very nearly ready to me, though he usually leaves it cooking for far longer than my eye says is necessary (by the way, it turns it that gods don't suffer from food poisoning after all...)

"Erm..." I think fast for something to say- anything! "Watcha readin'?" I ask, kind of sounding agitated yet chilled. Meanwhile, the sane part of my brain groans in embarrassment and turns its back to the rest of me. Loki doesn't look too impressed.

" _Galeidryl mo_ _Mireemveleiyn,_ " he says smoothly.

"Erm... right... I think I might have recognized one of those from Lord of the Rings, but..." I trail off. From this angle, I can't see his face as he's not only staring fixedly at the ham, but also has his face covered by his hair (as it's still too early for him to get it slicked back, or whatever the fuck he does with it), but I'm sure he's most probably smirking at me.

"It means _'Power of Mind'_ in ancient native Elvish," he says, turning the meat over carefully.

"Huh. Long word just to say 'mind,'" I say thoughtfully. He turns around to give me a look that clearly states that I am stupid. "Gosh, no need to look at _me_ like that! You were the one who decided to keep a mere mortal such as myself running around as your pet!" I say defensively.

"I won't argue with you," he says tiredly, turning back to the fireplace. "Otherwise, I might change my mind about keeping you as my _servant_ ," he says softly, putting extra emphasis on the word 'servant'.

"Yeah, right," I snap. "You call me your servant, but I haven't got a single thing here that I can call my own! I haven't got my phone, computer, childhood knicknacks, I haven't got my pictures of my friends and family. I haven't even got my fucking clothes! And, by the time you let me go - _if_ you ever let me go- I won't even have the course that I paid over £6,000 for. Money that I worked hard to get!" By the time I've finished shouting, I am breathing hard and fast. My eyes start to water.

 _Shit, don't cry, just don't cry! It's tears of frustration, fucking damn it!_

Loki's eyes are fixed on the floor. Finally, he speaks.

"If you behave and do as I tell you, I might consider taking you to your home to gather your possessions," he says softly. "But only if you behave. I was taught from a young age to reward good servants, after all."

"Yeah, well, what a _prime_ example you set for us all," I say under my breath, but he hears it anyway.

"And evidently you won't be getting those apparently very much loved prized possessions any time soon," he states disapprovingly. He then continues on in a softer, though no less mocking tone, "in fact, one might say that you will be courting with a bucket of apples very soon." I groan at the thought.

Fortunately, he doesn't force me to polish any apples. In fact, after we had both eaten, he gives me a very simple task (just to dust the place) and promptly vanishes. While he's gone, after I have finished with the dusting, I read a bit more of the religions book. After a few hours of aimless reading, I decide to check on one particular culture's beliefs. Finding it, I skip through a few pages, before finding the right one.

 _ **Loki: God of Mischief and Lies**_

Checking the door, I lean forward on the couch (he can't tell me off for something he's not there to witness; besides, I happen to sleep here!) The section on Loki is quite large, spanning several pages and mainly talking about the myths he is linked with along with some little facts about himself. Some of the stories I read are quite far fetched and unusual. I mean, he was raped by a horse whilst disguised as a _female_ horse and subsequently gave birth to an eight legged equine monstrosity? But I still read the stories, as I'm sure there must be at least some truth to these tales. Soon after reading the last story, and moving onto Thor's side of the legends, Loki returns.

"Hi," I greet absently, looking up from the book as there really isn't much use in trying to read now. Loki looks down at the book on my lap, sneering at the large brutish picture of Thor depicted on the page in disgust. "Yeah, is it true that you got raped by a horse and gave birth to an eight legged foal?" I ask, blunt as ever. Actually, now that I think about it, I hope it isn't true. Last thing I need is a traumatised psycho-god to deal with! Luckily, Loki just blinks in shock and confusion.

"Wherever did you hear that from?" He asks in bemusement, but he doesn't look sad or traumatised, which is good...

"The book, it includes all your stories," I say, holding the book up gently, only to have it almost half itself backwards. Loki snatches the book off me (rude!), finds the pages about himself and quickly reads through them. He gives a dignified, amused snort, closing the book with a disrespectful thump.

"They had got about ten percent of the facts right, at the very most," he says, looking thoroughly amused. "Even when the legends were strong, few mortals knew the truth. While many of the facts remain unchanged, many more have been corroded with time." He hands me back the book. "While the Allfather has, indeed, got an eight legged steed, he is not Sleipnir. Sleipnir _is_ my son, but I assure you, I didn't birth him; neither is he a horse, of all things," Loki walks off, chuckling slightly in astonishment while I sit back on the couch trying to process what he just told me.

"Oh, and one final thing," Loki suddenly whispers from behind me, right next to my ear. I yelp, leaping forwards off of the couch, and landing sprawled on the floor.

"Don't sit on the couch."

 **-BREAK-**

The next day, I find myself sitting on the chair, in the kitchen polishing apples. Only this time, I'm polishing two days worth, as there wasn't enough time the day before for me to do it.

 _Where does he put them all?_ I wonder miserably while I work. Then again, I see him eat plenty of apples throughout the day, but he never offers me any...

Due to the large amount of apples I need to polish- 7 buckets, as I actually sort of behaved today- he didn't give me any jobs to do, aside from making breakfast. I sigh as I feel hours slowly draining from my life and daydream about what I could be doing instead of this.

I could be in the Caribbean, enjoying the heat, and the waves, and the sand...

Actually, forget the Caribbean, as the sand would just get annoying and the heat might get too much.

Okay, I could be... going to America, with the hopes of seeing a real superhero vs. supervillain fight in person!

But then again, contrary to popular belief, they don't happen _that_ often, and besides, they don't _all_ happen in America. Just most of it, is all... And besides, who needs superheroes and villains when I'm living with Loki?

But... then again, this isn't exactly in the same league of a superhero vs. supervillain fight, is it? All this is, is just a scared human being forced to work with a maniac as his slave. For a god, he doesn't even do much! When he's indoors, he's usually either bossing me around or just reading. Otherwise, he's outside.

I look up at the man, who's currently searching for a specific book. Not finding it, he gently runs his right hand on the books, making them... making them _disappear!_ He then waves his hands (with some unnecessary theatrics) and summons forth book after book, placing them on the bookshelf. He does the same with the shelf below it, leaving only two shelves filled with their original books, and finally choosing a rather skinny, ancient looking book.

 _What is he reading this time?_ I wonder.

"What's that?" I ask him, as I really have nothing better to do.

"A book," he replies flatly.

"What's it about?"

"The fate of mortals who asked too many questions a thousand years ago," he says calmly. I gulp.

"Right," I say shakily. "You're just fucking with me, aren't ya?" Loki glances up at me in displeasure.

"Yes. I am," he says shortly. "And I can see that my speech lessons were entirely useless on you."

"Yup!" I say cheerfully. He has bothered to give me three of these lessons in total, but as they say, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. "But who knows, maybe with constant perseverance, you'll get there!" He sighs as he returns to his book.

"Seriously, though. What's it about?" I ask, trying to peer at the pages of the book from here, or to see if it has any titles of any sort. He seemed to know what book he was going for from sight alone, after all...

"A book on Jotunnheim" he says in a clipped voice.

"Oh..." I nod in false wisdom. "Er, why?"

"Do you not have something which you ought to be spending this time on instead of this incessant questioning?" he finally asks, though he doesn't sound angry, more exasperated than anything else, which is definitively a good thing.

I return my gaze to the apples, polishing the one I am still holding as thoroughly and quickly as I can. When I lift my head to look back at Loki again, however, he is gone. The book he was reading is nowhere to be seen.

I don't see Loki again until much later. He walks in through the door, looking quite grim for some reason.

"Hey, why so blue?" I ask him. Shockingly, he has quite a violent reaction to this. As he was taking his boots off at the time, it looks like his fingers spasm just as his back jerks, causing him to lose his footing and, from what I can see, get some pretty bad bruising on the arse.

"Oooh, are you okay?" I ask.

 _'Are you okay?' says the girl to her crazy homicidal slaver..._

"Fine," he snarls viciously. "How do you- why did you-" he breaks off entirely. I frown at him, as this behaviour is very unlike him. His lips tighten into a very ridged straight line.

"Forget this happened," he says at last, before heading towards the wardrobe, gathering his silken sleepwear and entering the bathroom. I wish I could do that, get ready for bed in the bathroom... I kind of miss having baths and showers, now...

But as I settle on the couch, preparing for sleep, there's just something about the way that he acted that seems just a little bit... _suspicious_. After all, all I did was comment on how down in the dumps he was looking! Did someone die? Was he dealing in some weird and messed up dark sorcery that made him depressed? Or is he just feeling a little home sick? Actually, that must be it. That's why he reacted the way he did, because he's missing home and I was an idiot to bring it up.

But, wait... there's one other thing...

The bathroom door opens. "Loki," I call. "We haven't eaten, yet!"

"I have already eaten," he replies, and I hear him settle into his big, comfortable, warm and cosy bed.

He already ate? When? Where? "But _I_ haven't," I respond. He breathes an exaggerated sigh.

"You may eat some of the fruits," he says at last. I wait for more, but that's all I get.

After eating some grapes, an unpolished apple that I found and a couple of nectarines, I finally settle down to sleep. Just before I fall into my sleep, however, the uneasy feeling returns. There's something that Loki is hiding, obviously. Something tells me that it's something that I'll need to know...

 **-BREAK-**

I don't know what time it is when I awaken, but I can definitely tell that it's nowhere near morning.

"What?" I ask, seeing Loki standing next to me, looking a little annoyed.

"You were snoring," he says in disapproval, "and rather loudly, in fact."

"Oh," I say, my brain trying to process what he's saying, and mostly failing. "Sorry."

He returns to his bed once more; I settle down, fully intent on sleeping, when a thought comes rushing into my sleep-addled mind.

"Hey," I say softly into the darkness. "Where do you go when you go out?" Silence meets my question. At first, I think that he's not going to answer my question at all, as there's no sound from his direction.

 _Most probably gone to sleep._

But then I hear a soft inhalation of air, which then halts like as though it were forcibly cut off, before being released as a long sigh.

"Just sleep, Shana," I just barely hear him whisper. Well, that is something I _can_ do.


	5. The Philosophy of Physics

**A/N: Hey guys! Remember when I said a couple of weeks ago that I'll be updating at roughly lunch-ish? No? Brilliant! XD**

 **Because I'm changing it to 'afternoon/evening, British time'. Hope those of you in my time zone don't mind. XD**

 **Chapter 5**

 **The Philosophy of** **Physics**

The next day finds me sitting on the floor, reading the Big Book of Physics (my little nickname for it). A few things in it makes sense to me- like a couple of things we had been learning in college for the past couple of months- but most of it just reads like scientific mumbo jumbo. Why does Loki even give this much of a damn about physics, of all things? There are so many other books that he could have chosen for his Top 3 English Books list; yet for some reason he chose physics, of all things. It's not even got a 'Beginner's Guide to Physics' section, it just dives head first right into it without any regard for the reader. Cocky little bastard.

Whilst I'm struggling with deciphering the intricacies of advanced physics (with all them maths and algebra), Loki is meanwhile lounging on the couch, reading yet another foreign book without a title; only, this one looks much less battered and aged than the other ones.

Momentarily giving up on reading the book that's resting on my lap (which is already starting to cramp and ache, along with my back), I turn to look at Loki.

Everything is silent; he's entirely focussed on his book, and now is the time to ask him, this time he _will_ tell me. I gather my courage and try to focus my own thoughts on the wording of my question.

"L-Loki?" I stammer. He makes a sound of acknowledgment.

"Where..." I trail off.

 _Focusfocusfocus_! I look down at the book as a way to stall a little and gain some courage, the mantra in my head pounding on, consuming my thoughts, until-

"How can you understand all of this?" I blurt out, pointing at the book.

 _Ugh, you're useless_ , I think to myself. _Irrationality and Stupidity, you're on your own._

"It is rather simple," Loki says from where he sits. "Most of the subjects which the book speaks of, I already know. I am only unfamiliar with the terms you mortals have used to label certain forces and contraptions. Besides," he says, peering over his book to give me an arrogant smirk, "I find it rather fascinating to see what is common knowledge on Asgard, which mortals either know nothing of or have completely misunderstood." I see what he did there, giving us little people a not so subtle jab.

"Oh, you think you're so smart just because you witnessed the dawn of civilisation," I say dryly.

"I do, as a matter of fact," he says, sounding amused.

"Well, you're not," I say decisively. There's silence from the couch, though I can't see Loki's face anymore to gauge the damage my comment made.

"Oh?" He asks softly from behind his book. "And why would a god be less knowledgeable than a mere mortal who dies only less than a century after birth?" He asks softly, his voice sharp with warning.

"Us mortals have a saying," I say as a response. "'You only live once'. We also have several other sayings, like 'life's too short', or 'life's a bitch and then you die'. Basically, what these sayings mean is that for us mortals, life is far too short to spend it hiding behind a book. Because of the amount of people on this planet who are trying to make something good and worthwhile out of their lives, Earth is forever shifting and changing, with never a stagnant century. Can you say the same for Asgard? The Realm where everyone lives for thousands of years; where everyone is a god and could have anything they wanted if they only went to a planet who's inhabitants are just about weak and gullible enough to worship you?" I pause in my speech. Chances are, none of this is going through to him, but that's alright. After all, you can't change a fixed mind, especially if that mind is as stubborn as Loki's.

"If you were to speak with an average human on the street," I say slowly, "chances are, they could tell you revelations about life you never thought to ponder before. Think of living on Earth as kind of like living on Asgard, but in fast forward where you, as the god, are the only one going at normal speed. I'm sure that with your people, you rarely think about death. With us humans, however, death is always on our minds."

"What are you saying, exactly?" Loki's voice cuts me off abruptly. "That Asgardians do not fear death? That we are incompetent and know nothing of life?" He asks, his tone sharp as a sword.

"No," I say thoughtfully. "But think about it, Loki. From what I can understand, you haven't changed much from Viking times. Yet, since those days, we have changed vastly. So many civilisations have risen and fallen, inventions have been created, wars have been fought and ancient history from when you last made yourselves known on Earth has long since been forgotten. Each individual may or may not be wiser than the oldest person on Asgard, but as a species we have far more history to offer, because our lives are forever on fast forward. You say that we only live for a century at the most, and each and every one of us is intimately aware of that fact. We can have several great wars in a single century, but what about you?" I ask him. I sincerely hope that the silence coming from the couch means that he's considering my lesson; but he says nothing, just turns another page and continues reading in silence.

Well, you can't teach an old god new tricks, I guess...

 **-BREAK-**

The silence stretches on for an uncomfortable stretch of time. How long does it last for? Fuck if I know. I just know that it's been a while since my moment of philosophical clarity, and right now I'm on a role with this philosophy shit!

"So," I say slowly, having reached a page on the theory of black holes. "Have you ever seen a black hole? Actually, don't answer that! Have you ever been through a _worm_ hole?" I ask excitedly. The silence from his side of the room is so intense, that I begin to think he's ignoring me. I open my mouth to ask a different question, when he _finally_ answers.

"If by worm hole, you mean the pathways that one can travel through at will to arrive anywhere within Yggdrasil's branches, then yes. Many times," he says calmly.

"Wow," I say in awe. "What was it like?"

"It would be difficult for me to explain to one who has not travelled through these pathways before. I suppose the closest thing I can say is that it can be quite... disorienting, especially if it is your first time travelling in such a manner."

"Huh... well, how about... Roswell?" I ask, saying the first thing that comes to my mind. Loki again lowers his book, only this time he gives me a confused look that clearly states that he thinks I'm insane.

"And what of this... Roswell?" He asks slowly, like as if he were speaking to a crazy five year old who's imaginary friend is Freddy Krueger.

"Well, obviously it's not true, then," I mumble, but I tell him what it is regardless. "It's basically this famous alien crash site. They crashed there a few decades back and it's since then been hailed as _the_ place to go for conspiracy enthusiasts," he still looks at me with no hint of recognition on his face. "Well, maybe it was something different, then. Like those little friends you brought with you that one time you tried to conquer the Earth."

"Perhaps," he says, though in a darker, more sullen tone. Perhaps I shouldn't have brought up his little attempted reign of terror...

Another question comes barging to the forefront of my mind, however. "How about the Ancient Egyptians? Do their alien gods exist somewhere? And what about the Hindus? And all those other religions, especially the ones with funny looking animal/people gods?"

"I cannot say," he says when I finally stop to breathe. "For those cultures, I do not believe that we had much influence on their beliefs."

"Right," I say slowly, my mind already on the next question. "Why do you look like us, if you are aliens who are undoubtedly far older than we are?" That is a little weird, considering that for them to be so ancient, it would mean that evolution would most probably take much, much, _much_ longer to take hold. Maybe the religious nuts do have a point about some higher creator. But other than that, I have nothing to explain how these guys could have evolved separately from us, and yet still look so very like us at the same time.

Loki hesitates in his answer, looking a little upset for some reason, before he finally gets a grip on his facial expression.

 _That was odd... It was just a simple question!_

"Our own philosophers theorize that not long after the birth of the Universe, some Asgardians- along with some of the other inhabitants of the realms- had been cursed by an ancient evil far in the past. This made them irreparably weak, and cursed their children with the same fate. Eventually, they are thought to have become mortals, and settled down for life on Midgard."

"So... I have godly blood in my veins?" I ask, grinning at the thought. He sneers at me.

"That is the _theory_ , yes," he says, seemingly more than a little disgusted at the thought that we might share even a small portion of our genes.

"Hey, look on the bright side," I say, still grinning. "Us humans apparently share a _very_ large percentage of our genes with bananas. That doesn't make me a funny shaped yellow fruit though, does it?" Loki just simply rolls his eyes, returning to his book.

"Hey, wait a second!" I say, only just realizing something and grabbing his very annoyed and aggravated attention again. "You said that was 'not long after the birth of the Universe,' but that's impossible as there shouldn't have been _any_ life that soon after the Universe came about! And as for the curse, there's actually a curse that can make immortals have shorter lives?"

"Yes," is all he says.

"Yes to what?" I ask him. He sighs, closing his book and standing up to replace it on the bookshelf.

"Yes to the fact that there is a known curse, though the one that is present to this day is not nearly that powerful as to be able to affect a large number of beings, as well as their descendants.

"Also, it has been believed that life has been around since the dawn of the Universe, perhaps even since long before it. I can't tell you more as even the best of minds cannot say for certain, but we have legends and tales much like you do, and you have seen for yourself how in all mortal myths, there is some small, occasionally unimportant pieces of truth to be discovered. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." With that said, he walks to the door, puts on his leather boots and steps outside.

You know, even though he's hiding on Earth, he's not really bothering to blend in with his clothing. Instead, he's stubbornly been wearing a pale green embroidered tunic and leather trousers, occasionally changing the tunic. Not too sure about whether he's wearing different trousers, though, but I'm sure he has some spare. After all, how much variety can you get in plain leather trousers?

But the one thing that I can't help but notice (the whole reason behind my wardrobe speculation) is that every time he walks out, he never puts on a coat. I don't even see any evidence that he so much as _owns_ a coat; but I know for a fact that it must be freezing outside, what with it being late October. It's cold enough on the inside, so much so that he's _actually_ been handing me blankets to keep me warm; though I think it's more out of a vain hope that I'll shut the Hell up, rather than out of the goodness of his heart.

It really is quite curious, all these little oddities. Perhaps he really is just bat shit crazy, after all...

 **-BREAK-**

Before long, it's time for us to prepare dinner. However, my roommate seems very keen on keeping his royal behind firmly parked on the couch.

"Come on!" I whine. "You know I'm absolute shit at cooking meat, and you're a fucking carnivore!"

"Actually, I was thinking that it is your turn to cook for the night," he says brightly. "I do believe that you shouldn't be too awful, as you have had more than enough opportunity to observe my own food which I prepare. Just cook the usual meal for tonight," he says, and at that moment, god or not a god I _seriously_ want to strangle his smug face.

He knows that I didn't give much notice on how he cooked the food. It's one of my greatest flaws -my inability to focus on the smaller things, and I tell him such.

"You should have been focusing, Shana," he reprimands. "After all, most of the time we were silent. There was little else for you to focus on rather than the food that was being prepared."

I don't know... I mean, Loki _is_ pretty sexy, and seeing as he hasn't exactly shown himself to be a threat to me, I've taken up the opportunity to oggle the god in action with minimal confusion on the matter. Still not my type, though, but that doesn't stop me from daydreaming. This whole master/servant thing could be _really_ fun to play around with, also. Then there's the way that he's-

"Shana!" He snaps. "I asked for you to make dinner, not to stand there staring into nothing."

"Sorry, sorry," I mumble, blushing slightly as I scurry into the kitchen. What can I say? I'm a woman with needs, a creature of pleasure and passion and... actually, I think I'll just stop right there before this develops into full on Stockholm Syndrome...

On the bright side, the kitchen didn't come under the threat of burning down during the dinner preparations. However, the meat was badly burned, and this time he wanted several kinds of meat (a chicken, large hunk of pork and some spare ribs)! I also decided to stick my customary salad on the side, as that way there'll at least be _one_ thing that's edible on that small dining table. Loki gives me a very sharp, pointed look. With a wave of his hand, the food disappears.

"Try again, and this time I want you to prepare at least one of the meats correctly," he dismisses me, returning to the book that lies abandoned in the couch.

 _Right._ I return to the kitchen with a huff.

 _If I screw it up again, he's making it himself!_

Of course, I know that this is all my fault; I should have known that he wouldn't be giving me a friendly helping hand forever. Maybe I'm as crazy as he is...

I make the food again, keeping a close eye on the meat this time to ensure that it doesn't overcook. I even cut off little pieces of the chicken and pork on occasion to make sure that the meat in the middle doesn't get undercooked. However, the ribs are trickier as there normally isn't enough meat to go hacking it away just to be sure, and so I poke it with a knife instead, pretending that I know what I'm doing; turning the meats on occasion to make sure they get evenly cooked. It takes ages, yet again, and I'm sure it's the early hours of the morning by the time I'm done. Knackered and exhausted, I dish up.

"Not nearly as good as on Asgard," Loki comments as he samples each meat. "The ribs seem to be undercooked, also. However the chicken appears to be cooked well enough; while the pork, though rather dry, will do for now."

Well, I suppose that's as good as I'm going to get for now... It could have been worse, though. He could have ordered me to cook it _again_...


	6. Follow the Trickster

**Chapter 6**

 **Follow the** **Trickster**

Alright, today I'll figure out Loki's plan once and for all! I've made breakfast, done my chores and now, Loki has finally walked out of the door. I've been planning for this for days now.

I am ready.

As quietly as I can, I sneak up to the door and open it a crack. Loki is only just visible through the trees ahead. Slipping on my trainers quickly, I walk through the door to follow him.

I walk through the trees I saw him entering, and continue going forwards. I'd lost sight of him while I was putting on my shoes, but I'm sure I'll be able to catch up with him. After all, how far can he walk in just a few seconds?

Apparently, the answer is quite far indeed...

I stumble my way over roots, scream as a few spiders attach themselves to me, but there is no Loki. What's really suspicious, though, is that I am anything but a master spy, (as all my screaming, swearing and my heavy footsteps would suggest), yet there's no Loki in sight.

Just how far away from the cabin am I? Does this mean that... I'm free to run away? That I'm too far away from him for him to be able to hear me? I quicken my steps. I know that the woods really aren't that big, so if I just keep walking straight, I'm bound to reach some form of civilisation.

I walk all of five steps, before suddenly the whole world disappears from beneath my feet.

"Waaah!" I scream, my feet straight in the air, and my head almost touching the ground. It's as if I got caught in one of those traps that leave people hanging with a rope tied around their ankle.

My body turns without my permission, leaving me staring face to face with my captor: Loki.

"Umm... Hi!" I say weakly, waving my hand at him slightly. Loki smirks in amusement with his hand stretched towards me, palm out. That's when I realise that I don't have any strings or ropes that are keeping me hanging like this. It must be Loki's magic doing it, then.

He turns his hand and my body moves until it's lying horizontally and facing the ground. His hands falls limply to his side.

"Aah!" I shriek shortly, my voice getting muffled by the ground as I get unceremoniously dropped a few feet. I hear chuckling coming from above me, I turn my head to the side to give the amused god a glare.

"I must say," he says, still sniggering a little. "I have been wondering when you might finally decide to escape."

Slowly, I get to my feet, rubbing my chest a little. I swear that when I landed on the floor just then, I think I felt each and every one of my ribs as they squished against their fleshy shield, leaving me a little breathless. I take in a huge breath, cringing at the sharp little twinge I feel.

"Yeah, well, this is all just part of the plan," I say, stopping to take another deep breath, though my chest seems to be getting better now. "You see, step one of my master plan was to gain your trust. Step two was to leave whilst your back was turned. Step three was... to..." _erm..._ "get caught by you so you think that I'm harmless. Finally, step three... I mean four was to stab you in the back with a very large kitchen knife, and leg it out the door!"

"Quite the plan," he says, and I swear it looks like that smirk resembles more of a smile...

"Yep!" I say proudly. "Yes indeed, I've been plotting it for weeks!"

"Is that so?" He asks. "But you have hardly even been here for two weeks."

"Yeah, well, it's still weeks!" I argue.

"As amusing as that... _plan_ may be, it is time for us to return, and for you to receive your punishment." Loki says, still smirking. I groan as we turn to walk back in what I assume is the direction of the cabin.

"And what part of my evil little plot was funny?" I ask as we trudge. Or, well, I stumble and trip over on occasion. He just glides gracefully.

"Because for one thing, you were not at all inconspicuous in your escape; as a matter of fact I'm pretty certain I could have heard you a mile away. Even without the screaming." I blush as I recall the one big, fat baby tarantula that landed on me that one time. I shudder at the memory. "As for the final step, a knife would hardly kill me. At worse, it would incapacitate me for an hour."

"Hmm, I suppose I'd have to come up with another scheme, then," I say thoughtfully.

"So it seems."

We arrive at the cabin. After taking our shoes off, I'm surprised to find a blanket appear around my shoulders.

"You were trembling," Loki explains, "and not with fear, I'd say." I frown in confusion, having not realised I was cold.

"Thanks," I say softly as he walks to the kitchen, preparing my apple polishing punishment.

"If I didn't know better," he says, placing the chair in the centre of the kitchen. "I would say that this punishment is completely ineffective with you."

"And how would you know better?" I ask him, walking apprehensively towards my torture.

"Mother used to punish me and Thor this way," he says softly, his hands curling around the back rest, and eyes staring into the distance. "Father would prefer punishments of a more... _physical_ nature, but mother would have us polishing the apples, the plums and all other fruits of a similar nature until they gleamed and shone."

"What sort of things would she punish you for?" I ask him gently.

"Causing mischief. Tricking the servants, lightly sedating some of the soldiers and Thor while they trained in an effort to humiliate them, small tricks such as that."

"Well, if _I_ don't know any better, I'd say that this punishment was completely ineffective with you," I say, grinning at him. He glares at me for a moment, before the glare slips away, making way for a mischievous grin.

I settle down on the chair, with Loki also deciding to sit on the couch.

"Why didn't you kill me when I got here?" I ask him calmly as I pick up one of the apples to start rubbing it with the cloth. Loki is quiet for a moment, but by now I know he'll answer it eventually. So I wait patiently, distractedly rubbing at the apple.

"I chose not to kill you, because of how you came here," he says finally. His answer confuses me, though.

 _That makes no sense..._

But he has more to say. "For the pathways to have changed the way they had, and for you to respond the way you did, it is incredibly unlikely. I must admit that it is the only reason why I allowed you to remain here."

"But what's so special about it?" I ask him, still confused.

"The pathways I had used are not recommended due to the possibility of the magic user being transported anywhere in the Universe. _Anywhere_ with no clear path back, as once the route has been used, you cannot use it to return."

"Why not?" I ask him.

"Because each pathway has many smaller branches that lead to many different worlds. For me to return to the original location whilst travelling faster than the speed of light would be incredibly difficult, even for me. So for me to arrive on Midgard, of all the millions of other worlds and thousands of realities- for these pathways can stretch through realities as well- that is why it is so unlikely. For you to respond and be drawn to this location is even more remarkable." He explains, though what he's saying only confuses me more.

"So, what? Are you trying to tell me that this is... _fate_ or something?" I ask him, surprised.

"Perhaps, but unlikely," he says, eyes fixed on his hands. I continue to absentmindedly rub circles into the apple, frowning at his wording.

"That sounds awfully like a 'maybe'" I say suspiciously.

"That would be because it is," he says, almost in a whisper. "The Norns work in mysterious ways, Shana."

He abruptly stands, walks towards the door and -once his boots are on- strolls out, leaving me confused and a little disoriented.

 **-BREAK-**

While Loki is eating his dinner, I stand beside the window, looking up at the sky. I can't see any evidence of this 'pathway,' the moon is shining high, and I can even make out a few stars.

"Why did you try to escape?"

I turn to look at Loki, who stares at me intently, now finished with his food. I shrug.

"I guess I just missed my family, and especially my computer," I say with a slight smile.

 _Let's not mention that I was hoping I would run into you, catching you red handed_ _..._

Loki considers for a moment. "You grow weary of this place, do you not?" He asks softly.

"Oh, princess," I sigh, returning my gaze to the window. "You have no idea. I mean, I have nothing but three books I can read in my spare time. Even though I know I'm not even half way with reading just one of them, three books for the rest of my life is hardly anything to brag about..." I turn to look at him from the corner of my eye, he frowns thoughtfully at the floor, confusion evident on him face.

"You look confused," I comment absently. His eyes snap up, his face erasing all emotion. "What's there to be confused about, princess? I miss my friends and my family, and I especially miss my computer, and all the games I've got on it."

He remains quiet, his green eyes dim in the poor lighting of the candles.

"So," I say, suddenly quite uncomfortable. "Are you done? Because I'm quite hungry! Honestly, with an appetite like yours, I don't know why you only have breakfast and dinner. May I recommend a lunch or two during the day?"

And so I continue to babble, though he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he looks rather disturbed by our previous conversation, for some reason...

I eat my dinner happily, and prepare for the night.

 **-BREAK-**

 _I'm in a dark, icy world. Sharp spikes of ice and rock jut out throughout the landscape, looking quite hostile and forbidding. I walk forward, though. I must find him. I must!_

 _Who must I find? My Dad! He needs me for the Grammar Rays!_

 _I rush onwards, hoping to get to him before something bad happens. I run through a field of apple trees, the red fruits whispering in urgent_ _voices_ _that I ought to hurry, before something happens._ "Hurry, before he's lost! Hurry, before they take him from you!"

 _The world shifts, and suddenly I'm in a white canyon, but I hardly notice. I continue running forwards through the blank canvas of a world. Finally, I step out of the canyon, finding myself standing upon a white plane of snow. I see a_ _fortress in the distance_ _, barely visible in the darkness. I move forwards slowly, cautiously._

 _He's in there! He must be!_

 _I hear a roar_ _just behind_ _me. I start to run, the roaring creature racing after me. I didn't see it, I don't need to. It catches_ _me;_ _a single giant clawed foot pressing down on my entire back. I whimper in fear as its large shadow shifts. It leans down... and whispers in a soft voice, as opposed to the harsh growl I would have expected._

 _"Do not fear. The ice will never harm you."_

I wake up, a little disoriented. I forget most of the dream, besides the final bit. A monster who caught me in a snow-filled landscape, and says in a soft, deep voice that the ice will never hurt me.

Whatever _that_ means...

 **-BREAK-**

I wake up the next day, feeling surprisingly refreshed. Having a nice, long stretch, I gaze out the window... to see rain. It is literally pouring it down with rain.

At least I don't have to go out there; though Loki, on the other hand... I look around the cabin to see if I can find Loki, and see him resting on his bed, a book held in hand.

"Have you seen the rain?" I ask him. "It's fucking miserable!"

"And why else did you think I was in here rather than out there," he asks, glancing up at me with a rather exasperated look, before returning his eyes to his book and reading on.

"I still wouldn't mind learning how to read those books of yours," I say to him, eyeing the book that's currently in his hands greedily.

"Oh, that _is_ a shame," he says in mock sympathy, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and turning a page, like as if he were proving a point. "Besides, you can hardly speak in your own tongue, but the intricacies of Elvish?"

"Look," I say calmly. "I'm just saying, I'm getting a little bored with those books you have. I've never been big on Physics, I have already read a lot of the more interesting things in that religions book, and the last book-" Loki's head jerks in my direction at the mention of it. "Don't worry, I haven't touched it," I quickly reassure him with my hands raised in surrender. "Which is exactly why I would like to learn to read those books of yours. I hardly have anything to _do!"_

Loki remains silent for a while, until finally he says, "Prepare breakfast, and I might consider your request."

Grarr! I walk into the kitchen, vowing that this isn't over. There is hardly anything to do, and Loki is slowly running out of household tasks, and even the apple flow is starting to lessen...

I chop the salad, sprinkling in some mixed nuts- something which I discovered he likes... he seems to have a fondness for nuts...

I serve up the salad in one large bowl, along with the bowls full of fruits and berries for him to pick from. I sneak a grape as he puts his book away on the bookcase; chewing and swallowing it quickly before he turns back around, settling down to eat.

I think he's grown used to having my much simpler meals prepared for him. He doesn't complain anymore when I give him salads, and I'm starting to really get the hang of this cooking shit!

"So, what's it like on Asgard?" I ask, just to have something to say or do while I wait for him to finish eating.

"It is very different to Midgard," he says, after swallowing his food. "It is not spherical like this Realm, but instead is rather flat; ridged with great hills and mountains. It shines with the power and wealth of the Realm, and there are great waterfalls surrounding Asgard, which dissipates into the clouds that Asgard sits upon."

"But that's impossible," I whisper in awe.

"No, Shana," Loki says. "That's magic."

"You've done so much," I say as he returns to his eating. "I haven't done nearly enough. I didn't do much in school, and after Sixth Form- which is basically extended schooling- I took a couple of years off. Got a job, earned some money for college. The only thing is, is that I think I chose the wrong course. I'm not into all the things they teach us in this science course, and it's expensive as _fuck!_ I would have gone through with it, though, if it weren't for you making everything go all dark and funny..."

"I do not see what was so funny," Loki says, confused.

"No, I don't mean funny as in joking around funny, I mean funny as in odd and peculiar kind of funny," I explain patiently. "Don't worry, you're not the only one who gets confused over all these words that have several meanings. Just think of it this way in terms if modern slang: if the word means that something is bad, it usually can translate to being good, also. The word queer doesn't just mean that something is weird anymore, but is also a word used to label someone who is homosexual. It's usually seen as offensive given that it tends to be followed with words like 'faggot"- which is both food and also an insulting word used for someone who is gay- which both means that you are happy or are attracted to men. Now that I think about it, there's a lot of words that have multiple meanings now..." I say thoughtfully.

"Perhaps you ought to write them down," Loki says, looking quite interested.

"Well, look at you showing interest in muggle culture like that!" I say in motherly pride. Loki's shifts in puzzlement.

"Muggle?" He asks in confusion.

"Yeah, well, just you wait; soon everyone would be using it, I'm sure. But for geeks like me, it's the word given to normal, ordinary, boring and perfectly mundane people like myself."

"I will need to learn these words," Loki explains to me. "If I ever manage to take rule of Midgard, or find myself interacting with Midgardians regularly, I will need to be able to communicate with them without seeming like a fool." It's a good reason, I suppose, though I don't personally agree with the first part- on him taking control over Earth...

However, this does mean one little slice of irony.

"Does this mean that I'll be giving you speech lessons to replace my own, then?" I ask him slyly. He smirks.

"It is useless trying to teach you to speak like a god. However, for myself to learn to speak like a Midgardian-"

"Oh I'm gonna have so much fun corrupting you, your godly highness!" I exclaim excitedly. A look of horror dawns on Loki's face as he realises what he said.

 _Oh, I'm gonna teach you to talk like a Midgardian, alright! I'm gonna teach you to talk like every Midgardian I know!_ I think, just a little evilly.


	7. To Stalk a Mocking God

**Chapter 7**

 **To Stalk a Mocking God**

The next day, after giving him his food, Loki doesn't give me any chores (partly because there's not really much to do, anyway). Instead, he draws out the dining chair to rest it in front of the couch, and gestures for me to sit on the chair.

"You may start teaching me these Midgardian words now," he says, in an oddly polite command.

"Okay..." I say, sitting down carefully. "Do you, er... have any paper?"

Can't say I've ever taught a god to speak slang before...

"I'll remember," he assures me.

"Alright, then. I guess I should start on words that can be taken offensively, even if they started with more innocent origins.

"Let's start with the words I already mentioned. The word faggot is usually seen as a very offensive term, even though from what I understand, it's also the name of these weird little edible ball thingies that I think Birds Eye sells... But anyway, be careful with saying that word; specify that you mean the little edible ball thingies if you ever do find yourself having to mention them- especially if you are in the company of gay men.

"Then there's the word gay-"

And on it goes. It lasts for what feels like hours -of me telling him all the words I know that have multiple meanings. As surreal as this may be, I get the reasoning behind it. Here on Earth, it's very easy to offend people these days, and I'm sure Loki would rather not go about unintentionally insulting the wrong people. He has enough hate as it is on this planet.

"And finally, the negative terms that can be used to mean positive things are: wicked- which means that something is _really_ awesome; bad- which means that something is pretty cool; oh, and er, cool, which means that it's good; and there's also sick, ill, and I think I've heard some people use the word 'shit' positively, too. I might have missed a few out, but I'm sure you'll get them," I say at last. I never actually realised just how much we've messed up the English language until now. It gives me a whole new appreciation for foreigners...

"That is a rather lot to remember," Loki comments. "However, my memory has never failed me before, and I doubt it shall do so now."

"Yeah, I'm sure. But that was only the words with multiple meanings. The real fun comes with the swear words," I say with what must have been a frighteningly mischievous grin. Loki stands up from the couch in clear dismissal.

 _Maybe_ _next time.._ _._

"I... appreciate what you have done," he says, looking like it pains him to say it. He moves to the door, and puts his boots on.

"As in the lesson, or my grudging weeks of servitude?" I ask him. He gives me a very insulting, patronising look.

"The lesson, Shana," he says as he walks out of the front door.

 _"The lesson, Shana,"_ my mind mimics childishly. I realise that yet again, I'm left behind with nothing to do but just stand around, waiting for him to return.

I stare at the door.

 _Don't do it. Don't go after him!_

My mind is at war; the safety of boredom, or the thrill of discovery? My feet, almost of their own will, takes me to the door. If I'm going to do this, I'll have to do it now, and as quietly as I can.

My shoes are on, and I peer around the door. I see Loki just walking through the trees at the edge of the clearing. I stealthily sneak after him, the pink panther music running in my head. I remind myself to keep quiet. Ignore the spiders, ignore the other creepycrawlies, they're just insects.

A big twig snaps under my foot. The figure just ahead of me stills, turning his head in my direction. I duck behind a tree.

I'd actually been doing surprisingly well, up until now. He must be distracted or something.

He continues walking, and I follow after him.

I lose him several times until finally, I'm well and truly lost. I wander through the trees; searching for where he had gone- these trees are so _fucking_ dense! All I can see is trees, and that doesn't seem to end.

Finally, after I've near enough given up on all hope, I hear his familiar voice in the distance. He's speaking another language.

 _Sounds like he's swearing, in fact_ , I think proudly.

I head in that direction, and come across a very small area that is void of trees- barely big enough to actually be called a 'clearing'. To the side of this area, barely in view, is... Loki?

Except, he doesn't look very much like Loki. He wears the same clothes, has the same voice and he looks like him, except for one major difference.

 _He's blue!_

Yet again, my feet seem to get possessed by some greater power, and I find myself walking into the area. He's crouched down, his hand on the ground and seems to be trying to do some form of magic.

"Loki?" My stupid mouth that seems to have been gifted with some form of free will blurts out uncertainly.

His head snaps up, his hand jerks up to face me, palm out. I suddenly feel cold. Ice cold. I fall to the floor, the world growing dim around me.

"Shana?" I hear his confused whispered question. It's the last thing I hear.

 **-BREAK-**

When I finally regain consciousness, I lie still, trying to reorient myself.

I remember the clearing, and Loki. I remember that... he was blue! He was blue, and he did something to me.

I open my eyes a crack, and try to seek out Loki.

I'm so comfortable... where am I?

"Don't move," I hear him say softly to my side. I turn to face him anyway, my eyes still barely open.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," he says in the same soft voice. "You should not have tried to follow me."

"You... were blue?" I ask, my voice scratchy and painful.

"Yes," he says, sounding like the admission hurt him.

"Was it... spell?" I ask. I feel like absolute shit.

"Of a sort," he says softly. "What you saw was my true form. I am not Asgardian, Shana. I grew up thinking that I was, but I recently discovered otherwise. My father and my mother had lied to me my whole life, only for me to find out that I am a... a..." his voice trails off, seeming to get caught in his throat.

"Those bastards," I croak, smiling a little. "It's not... too... bad, though."

"You do not know what I am, Shana," he says darkly. "If you were to know, you'd be repulsed."

"You'd be... surprised," I say. "What did... you... do... to me?" My throat is really starting to hurt now.

"I froze you," he says softly. "I had not meant to. I've been trying to learn to control my Jotunn heritage. But it gets so... _painful_ seeing myself become one of those _things_ ," he sneers.

"I... I think... you..."

"Shh, stop talking," he says gently. "I was able to heal you through magic and the use of some Asgardian salves I was able to summon. However, I am not a healer, and so was unable to heal everything. You need rest now, Shana." I nod my head slightly, but even that feels like a lot of effort. I close my eyes again, feeling a hand that is not my own come to rest lightly on my shoulder.

 **-BREAK-**

When I next open my eyes, I'm startled to find no Loki in sight. Slowly, I try to pull myself up.

"Not yet, Shana," I hear him say. I turn to the direction of his voice, to see him just standing up from the couch, a book in his hand.

 _...wait, if that's the couch, then where am I now?..._

I'm startled to realise that where I am happens to be on top of Loki's bed, covered in a mountain of blankets.

"Why am I on your bed?" I ask, my voice still rough. I rub at my throat, which is still quite sore.

"It was more convenient for me than the couch," Loki says, but there's something a little off about the tone.

"Admit it," I croak, smiling a little from where I'm stubbornly sitting up slightly. "You like me."

"Shana," he says seriously. "You were _dying_." I scoff.

"Like you care... unless you do."

"I lay you on my bed, because it allowed me more space to work on keeping you alive than on the couch. Besides, a healing patient tends to heal better when they are comfortable." I roll my head slightly towards him and give him a light glare.

"Loki, why did you keep me alive? Wouldn't it solve all your problems to let me die?" I ask him. He frowns at me.

"Of course not," he snaps. "Perhaps I have grown to care for you, to some small degree, but I could not bring myself to willingly watch you die without doing something to save you."

"Aw," I say, my voice breaking a little, and my cracked lips painfully stretching into a grin. "So you _do_ care, princess!" Loki rolls his eyes.

"If you keep calling me 'princess', I might change my mind," he threatens, but it seems to have lost the weight it once had.

"You wouldn't dream of it, princess," I say softly, smirking knowingly at the man. He glares lightly at me.

"Obviously you are feeling better now," he says. "Perhaps I should move you back to the couch, so that I might have my bed back."

"No," I whine softly, snuggling down into the heavy fortress of blankets. "Like it here. Nice and warm..." I hum in contentment, hardly noticing when I drift off into sleep once again.

 **-BREAK-**

 _I see green eyes, staring intently at me._

 _"Shana," the voice of the man they belong to whispers. "Do stay."_

 _I feel like something is different here, but I can't quite_ _put my finger on it_ _._

 _"Shana," he whispers again. "Never let them take me."_

 _I don't know what he's talking about. Who? Why?_

 _"Who's going to take you?" I ask him softly. He really has beautiful eyes. They can be quite expressive when they want to be._

 _Why do I get the feeling that they are always usually hiding their true feelings? That it's only for me that I see their true emotions? His arms wrap around me, and I hear a whisper against my ear._

 _"Never let them get to me. They will take me from you both." My eyebrow twitches in confusion._

 _The world shifts_ _and h_ _e_ _'_ _s no longer anywhere in sight_ _._ _I'm back in the snowy landscape_ _, except... I_ _t feels familiar, like I've been here many times. Vague memories float lazily into my mind as I gaze into the distance at the fortress that lies just visible there._

 _I hear a rumble coming from behind me. I turn and see a giant, scaley creature standing right in front of me. I look straight up, my neck straining as I take in the size of the thing. The beast leans down, but I still can't quite make_ _its features_ _out._

 _"The ice will never harm you," it states softly._

 _A brief flash of memory comes to me._

 _"But it did!" I argue. "It did hurt me, badly!"_

 _The creature shakes its head slowly. "It will never kill you, though. Not when you hold its master's heart." I frown at the creature. What does it mean by that?_

 _"What do you mean?" I ask. "Do you mean... Loki?..." I ask it. It lets out a soft chuckle._

 _"There are many who control the ice," it says. "Some are even said to_ be _the ice... know the ice, and it will never harm you."_

 _The whole_ _world_ _shifts again, and_ _I soon_ _find myself floating in space_ _while_ _being chased by a dangerous, sentient plastic water bottle._

 **-BREAK-**

When I next open my eyes, it's dark outside.

"How long was I asleep for?" I ask the room.

"For the entire day," a voice materializes to inform me. "I believe it is now seven in the evening."

I must have been much worse off than I originally thought... I struggle to sit upright, wincing at the residual ache in my throat. My head swims slightly with a dull ache piercing through it, but the aches and pains seem far better than they were the first time I woke up.

"That magic of yours is brilliant," I say, my voice now sounding hoarse rather than like gravel on a driveway. "How long was it since you aimed your Freeze Ray fingers at me?" There is a slight pause- most probably Loki trying to understand the Freeze Ray reference. Finally, he speaks again.

"It has been four days, and shall soon be five," he says softly.

"Oh," I look down at my hands, trying to gather my thoughts. My hands look burnt- horrible and red, with skin starting to peel. I grimace, looking away from them, and notice a nice smell in the air.

"Is that dinner?" I ask Loki. It certainly smelled like it; and from the smell of it, it will be far better than anything I could make.

"Yes, it should be ready soon," Loki says, walking into the kitchen. I hear some movement coming from there, with what sounds like plates being drawn and cutlery clashing together.

For some reason, it seems unreal for Loki to be making the food, even if he'd helped me multiple times, especially with the meats. I suppose it's because this time, he's making it all himself, for my benefit.

Not long later, he returns, placing a plain cloth on the bed, and then magicking the dishes on top of the cloth.

"Clever," I comment appreciatively.

"I believe you mortals call it 'common sense'?" He says with a raised eyebrow in my direction. He knows I have zero to no common sense, and if it were left up to me then his sheets would already be ruined by grease and fat.

I tuck into the meal, quite surprised at how... _kind_ he's being, even though I suppose it's not that huge of a deal. After all, we'd been getting along surprisingly well the past few days.

I try to remember when things had first started taking a turn in our relationship- when I had first stopped looking at him like my jailer, and starting seeing him as my... _friend_? Maybe as a kindred spirit? I haven't a clue as to what to label this as, and I can be very stingy on whom I label as my buddy.

I find that I actually can't pinpoint it, though I think it might have been a few days ago... erm, I mean a few days ago before a few days ago... well, I know what I mean!

Loki is staring at me very intensely right now, and it seems like he wants me to say something specific.

"Thank you," I say quickly, realising what it must be. "For the food, it's lovely!" I smile at him happily. He just looks a little upset, though.

"Thank you for making me feel better, also," I hurriedly add. But he just looks a little more upset. His lips tighten as he stands up, walking to the couch, where one of his books lies waiting.

"I'll eat whatever is left," he says softly, sitting down to read his book (looks to be the one about the little orphan boy).

 _And they say us women are the complicated ones!_


	8. Gifts From a God

**A/N: Yeah, sorry this is a day late... I won't lie, I completely forgot as I got lost in the world of The Sims 4 (yep, I'm one of _those_ people... Whatever that means...) But anyway, game based obsessions aside, here's the next chappie, and at least it wasn't a week you had to wait for it!**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Gifts From a God**

"I see you're awake," Loki says, walking through the door the following morning.

"Yep, and I feel right as rain!" I say, my voice still sounding a little on the raw side, but much better. He looks at me sceptically.

"It has been five days since you nearly died," he says slowly, like as though the ice had managed to irreparably affect my brain. "I very much doubt you are 'right as rain,' as you say."

"Oh, come off it," I wave my hand dismissively. "I'm well enough to sit upright, so I'm sure I'm well enough to at least wander around the cabin!"

"You must rest, Shana," Loki says scornfully. "I may have healed you with the aid of magic, but as I have already said, I'm not a healer. Your body will be required to do a lot of the healing itself. You are by no means ready for walking, and certainly not for anything else." I sigh in defeat.

"Fine," I mumble. "Just gimme the gods book, please," I request, holding a hand out for the book. He gives it to me, seeming a little... _apologetic_?

"So how long am I supposed to be on bed rest for, Doctor Loki?" I ask sarcastically, letting the book fall open on a random page. The Egyptology section- a section I've already read through. I begin skimming through the other chapters.

"At least a week, though preferably more," he says casually. I halt in my page turning.

"Come again?" I ask, my eyes snapping up to meet his from where he stands at the foot of the bed. "A _week_? A whole _fucking_ week of lying around with nothing to do but run out of reading material and stare into space, going mad with boredom?" I ask in rising horror.

"Yes," he says simply. "Consider that punishment for following after me."

"Ah, yes," I raise my finger in contradiction. "But, you never told me _not_ to follow after you. You said not to run away- which I didn't do, and neither did I have any intention of doing it. You told me to work for you and perform any tasks you wanted me to do, but I didn't have a single task to do at the time. If you ever told me not to follow you, it was so long ago that I've forgotten all about it," I say stubbornly.

"You certainly have got a rather horrid memory if you would forget events from a mere couple of weeks ago," he says with a disbelieving smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"It's not the memory that's the problem, mate," I say, shaking my head in mock sorrow. "It's the attention span. It has always been my downfall..." Loki moves to sit down at the foot of my bed.

"The course you had mentioned before. What was it for?" He asks me. I frown at the sudden change in subject.

"Science," I answer. His eyes move across my face, seeming to study my every emotion.

"Why science?" He asks me. "From what I understand, Midgardian science requires the same levels of concentration as any other- levels which you certainly seem to lack," he says in a lightly teasing tone.

"Alright, smart arse," I say, chuckling a little. I start coughing, my sore throat disagreeing with the vibrations caused from my laughing. Loki's teasing expression swiftly changes, becoming suspiciously like he were concerned.

"Don't worry," I gasp, waving off the not-concern. I draw in a few breaths, allowing the uncomfortable aching tickle in my throat to die down.

"Anyway, erm..." What were we talking about again? Ah, yes, that was it! "I guess I just joined the course because it sounded cool. After all, the most awesome jobs, in my opinion, are to do with science. If I were to become a doctor, I'd be rich. If I were to become an astronaut, I'd be in space; as a vet, I could help all sorts of animals, preferably the exotic kind. But instead, we're just learning all this crap that I couldn't give two fucks about..." I pause, rubbing absently at my throat.

"It just feels like life doesn't make sense anymore," I whisper. "I wanted to live a life all kids can only dream of living, and I saw all these people living that dream. I wanted to be like them. After all, if several people can walk on the Moon, why not me? If a bunch of people can swim along side the fishes, discovering new and _incredible_ things on our planet, why can't I? If a girl just like me can grow up to tend to unusual creatures all over the world, then why aren't I?" Loki stares at me in silence as I speak. I'm sure he doesn't really care about my ramblings. _I_ barely care, anymore...

"I suppose my talents lie in other things, though," I say, shaking away the thoughts. "I'm perfectly content with just seeing where life throws me. If the shit hits the fan one too many times, then I could at least write a book on my unfortunate life, eh?" I say jokingly. Loki gives me a rather strained smile.

"From what I have seen so far," he begins, his eyes watching me carefully, "you are anything but ordinary." I snort.

"Right," I say, disbelieving.

"But it's true," he says sincerely. "You fight with every opportunity you get, but not in a way that can be considered to be suicidal. You speak in a way which would make respectable warriors blush and stammer, and your beauty-"

"Okay, I'm stopping you right there," I interrupt him quickly. "I've got a free spirit, and language enough to make a sailor blush, but am I pretty?" I shake my head. I'm not beautiful. Maybe a little pretty- I mean, my face shape isn't too bad and I'll humbly admit that my eyes are nice, . But that's about it. My hair is an ordinary light brown, my eyebrows are naturally rather chunky (those little bastards), my nose- while not too bad- is a little too fleshy for my taste and sticks up a little bit snobbishly.

That's not even touching on the acne scars dotted all over my body, or the fact that I'm a little on the chubby side- even after living here for over two weeks with only two meals a day!

"Why would you say that?" He asks me, looking genuinely confused. "Certainly, you might not be to the standards of the women of Asgard-"

"Thanks!" I cry out sarcastically. "You really know how to flatter a lady, don't you?"

"I had not finished speaking," he says, glaring at me for having interrupted him again. "As I was saying, you are not as beautiful as the women of Asgard-" I huff indignantly despite my thoughts on the matter, "-but you are none the less beautiful," he says softly. I freeze completely at his words.

"You have not the beauty of those women, yet at the same time, you are strangely more so. Your eyes remind me of the skies of Alfheim as the stars were rising, and their Sun had just set. An unusual mixture of dark blue and light green, dancing in the sky; mingling in perfect synchrony, but at the same time completely distinguishable. When the light touches your hair, your whole being seems to shine. Especially when you smile." I stare at him in shock. It doesn't look like he's lying, though he is known as the God of Lies for a reason...

We sit there in silence for a while; me waiting for him to burst out laughing and saying it was all a joke and a lie, and him seemingly waiting for me to react.

"Okay," I say slowly. "Erm... is this the part where we kiss, or something?" I awkwardly joke.

"Hardly," Loki sniffs. "I was merely telling you the truth. That you are beautiful, as you obviously refuse to see it yourself."

"Alright," I say slowly. "Just don't go serenading me with One Direction, okay?" I joke lightly.

"Whatever this 'one direction' is, I will be sure to remember not to," he promises, smiling softly at me as his eyes shine with amusement.

 **-BREAK-**

Due to boredom, I fall asleep part way through the day after Loki had stepped out of the door. I barely touched the gods book in the end, and the conversation had only lasted a short while longer after that awkward moment we had. After all, he may be nice to look at, and I may flirt a bit now and again, but I don't think we're quite _there_ yet. Or anywhere _near_ there. In fact, I still don't even know if I should classify our relationship as a friendship. Maybe as roommates who are on good terms with each other?

I shift drowsily in the bed and stretch my legs out, only to encounter a very large, heavy weight at the bottom of the bed. A weight that hadn't been there before...

Sitting up, I look down at the bottom of the bed, and see four big brown bags lying there, patiently waiting for my curiosity to kick in.

 _Should I peek?_ I wonder cautiously. _What if Loki catches me, and doesn't like me_ _seeing whatever's inside them_ _?_

I decide against peeking at the contents of the bags. Time ticks by painfully. I pick up the book that had somehow made its way from the side of the bed to the safety of the bedside table, and read about the Ancient Greeks to get my mind off those bags.

As time stretches on, however, I find it harder to ignore.

Finally, I drop the heavy book onto the bed by my side, and reach out to drag the bag closest to me onto my lap. The first thing I notice about it is that it's heavy, and packed solid with what feels like multiple things.

Taking a deep breath, I open the bag, and reach one of my hands inside it. Feeling something quite familiar, I roll my eyes as I begin to pull it out. It feels like a book, and knowing Loki, it most probably is.

 _Fingers crossed it's one I can read._

In no time at all, I'm holding a book in my hand. A book with a title on its colourful front cover.

 _'_ _The Secret_ _Garden'_ the title reads.

I smile fondly at the book. I never read all of it, but I did read most of it as a little girl. But as Loki is so fond of telling me, I've got a _dreadful_ attention span. I've just always had other things I would rather be doing.

I quickly begin pulling out more books, easily seeing a pattern.

These are all books that I've told him I would like to read during my numerous complaints; along with some other ones I haven't heard of, but seem like books I'd enjoy.

There are romance books with various horror monsters, horror stories with either pre-established, or no romance at all, and a few fantasy stories also.

I laugh at the last bag, which I discover is full of Harry Potter books, along with The Lord of The Rings. I vaguely remember having compared him to Harry Potter the first time I met him.

He got all this for me. He actually listened to my whining and complaining, this must be his way of apologising.

I sit back and look over the large collection of books. I might never have been a huge bookworm, but I've never been more thankful than I am now to see such a huge selection. Now that I have so much to choose from, I decide to start with a fantasy book about a lowly farm boy who winds up tangled in a prophecy to do with old gods and magic.

 **-BREAK-**

Loki returns after I have finished a few chapters of the book. It's a good book, and even though it's based in medieval times, it's still quite easy for me to follow.

He looks over to me, spotting the pile of books at the end of my bed, and looks at me inquisitively.

"Would that put an end to your complaints?" He asks me smoothly. I smile widely.

"Oh, definitely," I say, nodding enthusiastically. "Better yet, you seem to have good taste."

"Oh, that is not for me, and I have no interest in reading any of those tales," he explains calmly. "I just thought that if you are to remain resting for a week, you should have as little reason to get out of the bed as possible."

"But what if I need to piddle?" I ask him innocently, he stares back blankly. "Oh, right. Asgardian... Okay, what if I need to piss? shit? use the lavatory?" I explain as crude as I can. His face twists in pained disgust.

 _Still got it,_ I think triumphantly.

"You may use the wash room if you must. But if you take too long while in there, I will have to check to see if you are still well," he warns.

"Yeah, well, not like it's anything you haven't seen before," I grumble, glaring at him. He stares at me with a look of confusion etched in his face.

"I have never seen you naked," he says, seemingly baffled that I'd ever think that.

"But... you _told_ me a while ago that you cleaned me up, and when I asked about it, you said it wasn't anything important or special!" I argue, all the while he shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

"Shana, they call me a lier and a trickster for a reason," he says, that smile still stuck on his face. I gape at him.

"But... but you-!" I fumble, before giving up entirely. "You're a real bastard, you know," I grumble.

"So many have said," he says, his smile becoming a grin.

We sit in silence for a while; I play with the pages of the book I'm holding, but don't actually read any more of it. Loki sits at the foot of the bed, appearing to contemplate the air in front of him.

"Why were you so shocked?" he finally asks. I jump at the sudden sound.

"Huh?" I ask him ineloquently. He looks up, his face pondering.

"Why were you surprised about what I am? The book had said; Midgardians have known for far longer than I have, for reasons I know nothing of. So why were you so surprised, even though you knew?" He asks.

"Well," I say slowly, giving my brain time to think up of a reason. "I think it's just that you read through it all, and you yourself said that very little of the facts said in the book are actually real. Ten percent, I think you said, so I guess I just assumed that all of it might be wrong," I finish with a slight shrug of my shoulders.

"Most of the facts were wrong," he says quietly. "But somehow, that is the one thing the Midgardians correctly guessed. That I am not only a Frost Giant, but the son of their King and Queen, left to die because I was a runt," he hisses with venom in his voice.

"Why would they leave you to die?" I ask him gently. "Didn't they love you?"

"Frost Giants are monsters. They feel no love, nor do they feel the emotions of remorse, kindness, empathy-"

"Erm, you're a Frost Giant," I point out warily.

"Do not remind me of what I am!" he shouts, sounding desperate.

"Yeah, I think it's time you got the opinion of a mortal over the opinion of those stiff backed, tiara wearing dickheads," I announce. He instantly settles, his desperate anger melting into shock.

"You settled now?" I ask. I get no response. "Good, now what _I_ see isn't a monster, or a creature who should be feared and hated simply because he was born- and that's coming from someone you tried to subjugate!" I insert, hoping for at least a little remorse, but only get a little bit of polite embarrassment instead.

 _It's progress..._

I continue speaking. "What I see is a desperate man who was taught to hate himself from a young age. Now, I'm not saying that your Dad was an awful parent, but for having made you despise what you are to that extent?" I shake my head, _incomprehensible_. "Nope, he's a fucking shit Dad if you ask me."

"So you do not see me as a monster?" He asks hesitantly.

"No," I say, though it comes out sounding a little uncertain. Judging by his glare, he spotted it. "Not a monster, but a little... _weird_ ," I say, content with my explanation.

"Weird?" He asks, looking at me disbelievingly.

"Yeah, weird... and kind of pretty, I guess," I say thoughtfully. "But certainly not a monster. I mean, it's not like you lost all cognitive reasoning just by turning blue," I joke, grinning cheerfully at him.

"But I am a beast!" He argues weakly. "Frost Giants once attacked your world, if the Asgardians had not stopped them-"

"But Loki!" I interrupt him, intent on showing him that he is most certainly wrong. "Any civilisation can attack another. We have attacked each other here on Earth so often now that each culture is now a mish-mash of each other!" I exclaim, waving my arms in the air like they'd help prove my point. "Yet would you call us monsters?" I ask him. He scoffs at the mention of it, and I choose not to be insulted for the sake of proving this point. "Then you are no more a monster than anyone else in this space tree!" I declare.

He still looks a little uncertain, though, but I guess old beliefs die harder than bad habits do...

"Just think about it, okay godling?" I ask him, he just simply rolls his eyes at the nickname, but gives me a reluctant nod, regardless.

"Good, because I really need to piss, now."


	9. Rubbatubtub

**Chapter 9**

 **Rubbatubtub**

I look mournfully down at my hands. Though they aren't cracked and burned in appearance any longer, they shine with very smooth scarring. They're all over my body, these scars; they are the only evidence of what had happened two weeks ago now.

"I'm sorry that I scarred you," Loki says softly from the couch, I raise my eyes to look at him. He truly does look very sorry, and the fact that he even said the words...

"It's alright," I say, dropping my hands from my sight. "They give me character, I guess. Besides, they aren't so bad." And really, they aren't that bad at all. My skin looks just like it did before, just with a shimmering layer on patches of it now.

"Besides, you did say you couldn't control your magic ice powers, right?" I ask him, trying to comfort him at least a little.

"That is correct, though I should have tried," he stubbornly argues.

"Loki," I lean forward, forcing his eyes to focus on mine. "You aren't used to these powers. In fact, you're still denying them, I'd guess." Loki looks down, a frown embedded on his face.

"There are many things I am not used to," he say contemplatively. "As an example, I have not bared my thoughts like this to anyone for a long time..."

"Really?" I ask him. "No one? That is quite heart breaking..." The change is instantaneous.

He whips around to face me better and snarls, "Do not mock me, mortal! For if you do so, I swear that I will-" but I cut off his little hissing fit right in the stem.

I raise my hand to draw his attention. "Shut up before you say something you might regret," I warn him, my voice glacial. His face contorts in outrage, but I twitch my raised hand to keep him quiet.

"Shush! Now, before you break a perfectly good relationship over some minor misunderstanding," Loki goes to open his mouth again to speak, I glare at him sharply. He closes his mouth again, still looking quite pissed.

"As I was saying, I didn't mean what I said to be taken offensively. What I mean is that I find it sad that you've never trusted anyone that much before." He's quiet now, seeming to think my words over. "But why do you trust me that much?" I ask him, thinking aloud more than anything else.

"Because, although you might lie to me, you will never betray my secrets," Loki says sincerely. "You are mine. My servant, my companion, and holder of my secrets. When you first came here, I never intended to let you go."

I stare at him, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn't.

"And now?" I ask him, prompting him to continue.

"Now nothing has changed," he says shortly. "You are still mine, and because of that, you are the only one whom I can trust with my thoughts."

So I am the only one who will hear any of this, then? The only one who will see an honest, laughing Loki? To receive genuine compliments that aren't dished out with ulterior motives, but are simply given just because?

But the price for all this is the rest of my life in his service. While he's not as bad now as he used to be, it still sucks to be his slave.

"Well, that's a truck load you're dumping on my shoulders!" I say lightly, chuckling a little awkwardly.

"Is it?" he simply asks.

"Well, you're giving me your trust and your secrets," I explain. "If I screw this up, I'm sure the consequences would be catastrophic."

"Oh, extremely so," he says darkly. "Though fortunately there is not a soul in which you can betray me to."

That comment feels quite foreboding; suddenly I'm reminded of everyone I'm leaving behind, all the people I'll never see again. I wonder what they're thinking now. I'm sure they would have realised that something is wrong by now.

 _Would I find pictures of my face plastered on 'lost' posters_ _when..._ if _I get home?_ I wonder.

I'll never tell another soul, alright. While Loki seems alright now (must be my charming personality getting through to him), he will never make his presence known whilst he's still in hiding, which could be for any stretch of time. I will never see my family again...

"So," I say, clearing my throat and my mind of those depressing thoughts. "What's the verdict, Doctor Loki? Am I well enough to get out of bed now?"

Loki raises his eyebrow at me, but nods. "I would say that you are now well enough to walk."

"Thank fucking God!" I sigh in a relief, throwing myself haphazardly out of bed. "I really need a bath, and not that weird fucking hocus pocus that you do, either!" I exclaim, drifting towards the bathroom and towards my dream.

You know... I honestly haven't a clue as to when I last had a bath. Actually, screw it, it was the day before I got here, but that was so long ago now... He's been doing that little spell of his for all this time; I'm almost shocked that he's letting me use the bath at long last.

I turn the taps, making sure that I get just the right temperature and wait for the tub to fill. With the sound of the water filling up the tub, I daydream of how my Mom would react when I get home. How she would hug me tightly, claiming that she would never let me go. Then my friends, they would all be asking me if I'm alright, and what it was like to meet a real god. Ben would awkwardly pat me on the shoulder, but smile widely and tell me how happy he is to see me safe, and Lexie would do the same. As for Rick- the ex who stayed as my friend- he would hug me tightly and grin, saying that he knew I would make it back in the end.

I am a survivor, after all...

The bath fills with water, and I shed my clothes. Still the same clothes; the same pug and jeans and even the socks. The whole outfit is starting to look a little worn, but Loki's refused to let me leave to get my other clothes, so long as he can keep magically cleaning myself and my current clothing.

The water feels luxurious after so many weeks where the only interaction with water I had is either to clean stuff with it, or to drink it. I run my hand through it, enjoying the feel of it slipping through my fingers. I sigh in pleasure, sinking low so that my whole face is submerged.

This is what heaven feels like. The feel of hot water, set at just the right temperature to not be scolding, but still be hotter than 'warm'.

I rise, breaking through the surface of the water, completely drenched with residual warmth clinging to my hair and skin. It is glorious.

I don't know how long I'm in there for, just swishing the water, resting, splashing and all sorts of other incredibly mature things that all grown ups do in the bath. Let's just be thankful there isn't any rubber ducks, or else Loki would never see me again!

When I finally decide to get out of the bath tub, the water has long since turned lukewarm, and all of my fingers are so shrivelled that I'm disgusted. I look around for a towel to dry myself with, only to find just one hanging beside the bath.

It's most probably Loki's. I bite my lip, awkwardly wrapping my arms around my bare chest.

Should I use it? The thought flashes through my mind before I can stop it. I shake my head, most probably blushing more than a little.

Don't be silly, idiot! It's Loki's towel! I walk over to my pile of clothes, and start reluctantly putting them on again.

With my shirt clinging embarrassingly to my torso (good job I was wearing a bra when I got here!) and all my other clothes leaving very little to the imagination, I walk out of the bathroom with both of my arms wrapped around me, feeling utterly embarrassed about forgetting the problem of how to dry myself.

I quickly scurry over to the couch, and huddle there, shivering slightly as the cold truly starts to take its toll. I peek up at Loki around my wet wall of hair. He stares at me from his position on the bed, book on his lap and eyebrow raised enquiringly.

"Why in Helheim are you so wet?" he asks me. I stare in astonishment.

"Because I had a bath?" I ask slowly. _Obviously._

"I know that," he says, putting the book aside in slight exasperation. "But is it of Midgardian tradition to not dry yourself fully after having bathed?" he leans forward slightly in a mixture of curiosity and teasing intrigue. I scoff.

"No, it's not 'of Midgardian tradition', there was only one towel in there!" I exclaim, pointing at the bathroom.

"Of course there is," he says, barely restraining a laugh, it seems. "That would be yours."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to use your towel because-" wait... backtrack... "You're shitting me," I say slowly.

"I'd rather not," Loki says in distaste.

"But... what do you use to dry yourself with?" I ask in shock. He gives me a rather dirty grin that seems to say 'wouldn't you want to know...' I blush. "I-I mean... fuck, you know what I mean!"

"Fear not, Shana, I know exactly what you mean," he says, openly laughing at me. "I use my Seidr, obviously."

"Pff-yeah, obviously," I mutter. "And what's this 'See-der' exactly? Other than some drink that isn't cider, that is..."

" _Seidr_ is our word for magic," Loki explains, still smirking slightly.

"But... I've heard you call it magic!" I say, pointing my finger at him accusingly.

"That would be because that is the word you are most familiar with," he says, frowning disapprovingly at my accusing finger. "Did you truly believe that I sat idle whilst attempting to take reign over Midgard? Besides," he shifts his eyes to look into mine with a cocky smirk gracing his lips. "As a weaver of magic, I am able to speak any language through the power of the All-Speak. Excluding 'slang', that is."

I frown thoughtfully at this. "So, does that mean you could speak French right here, right now?" I ask him, intrigued by this 'All-Speak'.

"If I were to witness the language as it is spoken, then yes. I would learn it swiftly. However, the reason why Thor and I had both been able to speak your 'English' after just mere moments of being here was because we have journeyed here several times for minor quests whilst under disguise over the past half millennia. Though the last journey was at least a century ago," he explains. I shrug.

"I suppose that's fair enough," I say calmly. "I just assumed that because you can do magic, you'll be able to magically know what everyone's saying, just like that," I snap my fingers in example. Loki shakes his head, looking amused.

"It's not quite that simple," he says, which makes me scoff.

"Fuck if I know what's simple or not to you thousand year old, magic wielding alien gods!" I counter. He blinks at me slowly, then starts to chuckle slightly.

"What?" I ask him, frowning slightly. The chuckle escalates to actual, obvious laughing.

"What?" I ask again, crossing my arms in annoyance. He continues laughing, though now he's bending over, supporting his hands on his knees as his laugh grows louder.

"Okay, it was a little funny, but I don't think it was that funny," I say, now getting a little annoyed with being laughed at. He begins to settle down, blinking away tears from his eyes.

"Oh, Shana," he says fondly, and with a wave of his hand, I jump at suddenly being dry and warm, as I had completely forgotten about my discomfort. "You are right, of course," he accepts amicably. "I suppose that we are far from simple."


	10. The Many Kids of Loki Laufeyson

**Chapter 10**

 **The Many Kids of Loki** **Laufeyson**

Though he still makes me do all the chores, and still acts like a major dick, Loki seems... subdued.

He occasionally does his trade mark pranks (as he always does), but they seem a bit lacking. When we argue, there's a sombre tone to his voice. It sounds almost like he's apologising to me; a tone that completely clashes with the words he would throw at me. I know what this change is all about, and I know why he acts like this when he's around me.

But that doesn't mean I have to accept it. After all, if he can't feel guilt and regret for the hundreds of people he'd killed and endangered when he had attacked Earth before hand, then why would he feel so bad about little old me? I'm nothing. Not really...

Yet here he is, staring at me again as I clean the pile of dishes from the night before. I finish drying the last dish with a sigh, and turn to face the man who has apparently developed a baby conscience.

"Okay, what's up?" I finally ask him. He tries to look innocent and confused.

"I do not know what you're-"

"Cut the bullshit," I interrupt him briskly. "You're moping around and you're actually acting like half the dick you usually are. Now, I know you're a complete bastard any other time so just cut the crap, 'cause you're seriously creeping me the fuck out!" I exclaim loudly. Loki leans back slightly, looking a little surprised at my outburst.

"I... apologize," he says in obvious confusion. "I had not known that you would feel offended..."

"Fuck yeah, I feel offended!" I exclaim, but then I pause to think that answer over a little. "Well... Not offended, but definitely a little confused!"

"Why are you confused?" He asks me, watching at me as though I'm a curiosity. "Is it not obvious?"

"Is what not obvious?" I ask in exasperation. He really isn't the best at explaining things...

"I had hurt you," he explains slowly, like I were a child. "With my own magic. My _own being!_ Upon harming you so terribly, it made me realise some things that forced me to re-evaluate a few facts I had never even thought of until then."

"And what's that?" I ask him gently. He tenses slightly.

"That mortals truly are incredibly weak," he says, but something seems a little off about that comment.

"And...?" I ask him, willing him to elaborate. He remains silent, though; his book forgotten beside him from where he sits on the couch.

"You said you realised several things," I press. I know it's nothing important, but I've always been a nosey bitch and this more sullen creature just ain't Loki.

"I..." His voice fades, and I can almost see his brain working to find the right words to explain his reasoning. "I have grown... _fond_ of you," he says at last. I stare at him.

"You've grown... _fond_ of me?" I repeat, though not really feeling all that surprised.

"Yes, Shana," he says, looking a little annoyed. "It is hardly surprising, after weeks of your company. But while I doubt I would call you my friend, I certainly feel rather fond of you," he finishes softly; an odd light of _something_ shines in his eyes.

"Oh," I breathe after a short silence. "Well, I'll consider that a friendly and purely platonic friendship proposal," I say with a grin. "Now you just need to go into the market and nab us some friendship rings!"

"Though I do not know what you mean by 'friendship rings,'" he sneers a little at the words, "I most certainly think not."

"Spoil sport," I grumble. "Here I thought you saying that you think of me as your bestie was a precursor to us being best friends for eva!"

"By the Norns," Loki groans. "Just... clean the bathroom," he finally demands (read as: pleads).

Smirking, I saunter into the bathroom, with my hips swaying arrogantly. Loki's back, baby!

 **-BREAK-**

I set the table; filling it with fruit, salad and my proudly perfected meats and fish (Loki had to abracadabra some heating spells on the meats so I could focus on them one at a time instead of having to race around like a headless chicken). I stand to the side, waiting for Loki to sit down and start eating. He piles his plate full of meat with a side serving of salad, but then stops. He frowns slightly, turning his gaze on me.

"Why don't you join me this time, Shana?" he asks softly. I stiffen in shock, my eyes widening at this odd request.

Perhaps I spoke too soon when I thought earlier that Loki's back to his former glory as a world class arsehole.

I frown as I look around for another chair, only to remember. There is no chair.

 _Nope, still an arsehole._ I glare at him, causing him to chuckle slightly. He shakes his head at me and waves his hand, bringing forth a chair seemingly out of thin air; one that is far more elaborate than the one he's sitting on.

"Did you just make that chair appear out of thin air?" I ask a little stupidly. Loki scoffs, giving me a look that clearly states _'you're an idiot'._

"Of course I did, though I had no hand in creating it," he explains.

"But then why is it there if you didn't make it?" I ask him. After all, I kind of had the belief that for something to be created out of nothing, it had to be _made_ out of nothing. Loki chuckles, shaking his head again at my apparent idiocy.

"You misunderstand," he says, gesturing for me to sit on the ornate chair. I obey cautiously and sit down on the surprisingly comfortable, well crafted chair. "Technically, it did 'appear out of thin air.' However, I did not create it; I had _summoned_ it from the palace on Asgard."

"But..." I frown, realising a flaw in this genius' plan. "Wouldn't they start noticing all these vanishing books and furniture?" I ask him with a raised eyebrow. After all, I've got quite the suspicion that that is where most of the books and furniture inside this little cabin comes from.

"Oh, they know," Loki says flippantly as he starts to dig into his meal. "However, they do not know where the furniture is actually going, and I am almost certain that they would never suspect me to be living on Midgard." I frown at his arrogance. If there's one thing that films have taught me in all my years, it's that anything is possible. While Loki could very well be right about them never finding him in Midgard, I still think that he shouldn't put too much stock on how stupid he thinks his fellow Asgardians to be.

But I keep my mouth shut while dutifully filling my plate up with food. After all, if they find us, then I'll be free; if they don't, then I'll wait to see what weird sort of relationship might blossom between us. I still haven't got a name for it... it certainly isn't like how I feel towards my brother, but it's kind of like it. The word friendship is now starting to feel like too small an expression for this...

Shaking my head, I dig for something to talk about to fill the silence that has fallen over the table. Meanwhile, Loki is now half way through the giant chicken I had roasted.

"Say, Loki," I say, remembering something I had wanted to ask him about before. "You say that the myths got very little right..." my voice trails off as I try to think of the right wording.

"Yes?" He prompts me to continue after swallowing a mouthful of chicken.

"Then, tell me a little about your kids. Who and what they really are," I ask him eagerly. He looks at me in contemplation, clearly thinking on what he should tell me and whether he should say anything in the first place.

The silence begins to stretch.

"Okay, I get that you don't want to, I was just-" but he interrupts my fumbling.

"No, no, it's fine," he assures me. "They are not generally as interesting as the legends you Midgardians have created for them. Sleipnir is swift and agile and chose to become one of the greatest assassins of the Realms. But he was shunned for doing so, what with him being a sneak and a spy in a world ruled by brutish warriors," Loki says dryly. I chuckle, thinking of Thor and a Realm full of others like him.

"Why did people say that Sleipnir was Odin's favourite horse?" I ask him, remembering that particular side of the legend.

"That would be due to several reasons. For one, the steed was actually named after my son once we saw how fast he could run; this naturally lead to some misunderstandings," he shakes his head at what I assume is the idiocy of men. "For another, the steed was fast, and my son was fast. Over the years, I assume that the two bled together until the steed was my son. However, I know not where the tale of the stallion's birth came from," he says with an amused smirk.

"Well, I'm just glad that you're not seriously pissed at being mistaken as the mother of a bastard, eight legged foal," I say with a laugh as Loki rolls his eyes at the legends before returning his attention to the chicken.

"Oh, but I was in the beginning," he says as he calmly slices off a strip of meat. "However, as the years passed I began to see humour in the tale. I had already come to terms with the fact that brutish warriors will always mock me for my subtlety, and the legends that the old Vikings used to spread of me were hardly the worst. In fact," he says, handing me a second slither of meat which I accept in surprise. He grins mischievously, "I find many of them -as you would say- downright hilarious."

"Oh? And what's your favourite legend?" I ask him, intrigued by what the god would say about his own myths. He doesn't even think about it.

"It would certainly have to be the one where Thor and I dress as maidens," he says with a completely straight face. I gasp in the bite of chicken I had taken, and start choking on it, while Loki just watches in amusement. I cough hard before finally dislodging the chunk of meat, grimacing as my mouth gets reacquainted with that damned piece of chicken.

"Bastard," I gasp, rubbing my chest with a grimace as I reach out for a drink of water.

"So you frequently say," Loki says in clear, obvious amusement. "But we were previously talking about my children," he says; obviously trying to get the conversation back on track. I wordlessly wave my hand to get him talking, still drinking the water to sooth my aching throat.

"Vali and Narfi are also my children," he continues, pausing to take a small bite of his chicken. "However, their mother was not Sigyn -who was actually the mother of Sleipnir. Instead, it was a rather lovely elven woman who's name I honestly cannot recall."

"Oh, you womanizing rebel!" I exclaim with a devious grin, which he responds to with one his own. "So tell me, you big old pervert," I tease with a wink, "Are there other -ahem- 'accomplishments' that you'd like to tell me about?"

"Oh, there are many, Shana. Such as the tale of myself and the elven King's illegitimate son," my eyes immediately light up.

"Do tell," I lean forward, abruptly forgetting all about the food. "And please, spare no expense!"

"But I do recall that this conversation was supposed to be of my children," Loki states with mock regret. "Not my previous romantic exploits." I sag back into my chair; sulkily pushing at the fish I had placed on my plate with my fork. Loki continues talking while I sulk.

"As I was saying, Vali and Narfi are my children. They were raised by their mother and grew to become farmers on their land. I only knew who they truly were because of a chance quest in Alfheim that brought me to their farm, where I was greeting by two young men who looked suspiciously like myself," he explains. I snigger slightly at the thought of how he must have looked upon seeing the fruits of his one-nighter for the very first time in such a way.

"Do you have other kids running around, I wonder?" I ask him as I pop a grape in my mouth, enjoying the taste of it and the refreshing juices that burst out as I chew.

"Undoubtedly," he says in an offhand way as he puts the skeletal remains of the chicken aside.

 _When did he finish that?_ I wonder, thinking back on how little opportunity he had to stuff himself silly whilst he was talking.

"Although, I assure you that it can't be many," he continues, starting on some salmon that he'd helped me prepare. "I am usually rather careful that there are no unwanted illegitimate children, though I cannot say the same for Thor..." he murmurs the last part as he cuts a bite out of the fish.

"Gimme the gossip!" I blurt, my eyes wide and pleading.

"Ah, but there is still the supposed triplets," he says, again with the mock regret. I growl a little under breath.

"Fenrir and Jormungandr were both children I had with a lovely Vanir woman-" he begins, putting on a vague tone as though he were lost in memories.

"Who's name you can't recall?" I cut in slyly, he smirks.

"Oh, but how could I possibly forget about Myrim?" He asks me, his gaze suspiciously (legitimately, this time), distant.

"Can't possibly imagine how," I murmur.

With a name like 'Myrim'... Loki raises an amused eyebrow at me.

"Why, I do believe that is jealousy that I hear," he says with a smirk.

I scoff, "Bollocks!" I declare. "I just think she has a funny name, is all."

"Of course," Loki says, a knowing smirk still stuck on his face. "But as I was saying; Fenrir, who became a fine warrior by Asgardian standards, was often likened to a wolf. As such; as he had inherited my affinity with magic along with my sense of humour, he took to shape shifting into a wolf. Jormungandr -who often took to following after his brother- had taken to turning into a great snake; the sort of which can be found in the abandoned marshes of Svartalfheim. He had chosen this form as he was known to be the more sly of the two.

"As for Hela," Loki breaks off, staring into the distance.

"Why am I getting bad vibes?" I ask him cautiously as the silence stretches on. Loki finally snaps out of it, and explains.

"Hela's... other parent," he sneers the words, "Was a jotunn. I know not his real name, only that he was a jotunn mage who tricked me by taking the form of a beautiful Asgardian enchantress. I admittedly fell in love, which then led to him falling pregnant with a child whom he named Hela," Loki looks away in disgust.

"The jotunn fool then had the nerve to blackmail the Allfather with my illegitimate daughter, to which he was then punished with execution. As for Hela..." Loki trails off, a look of guilt crossing his face. "The innocent child was banished into Helheim, where I was also banished as punishment for my lack of forethought. I was to raise her to become a ruler of the dead- Odin's way to show kindness to his granddaughter and his 'son,'" Loki sneers, glaring darkly into nothing. "At least my lust had been greatly decreased, however," he finishes softly. I frown; feeling sad for Loki and his daughter, and angry at Odin. While Loki might have made a mistake, I don't think it quite deserved punishing not just him but his young daughter, also...

"But... isn't Helheim where dead people go?" I ask him, confused on how he got there and back alive.

"As Helheim is considered one of the Nine Realms, there are ways that it can be travelled to by the living. However, it takes a great amount of energy and power to accomplish, which ultimately led to Odin falling under the Odinsleep for several centuries," he seems quite triumphant about that, not that I really blame him...

"There are other children," he continues, "some died many years ago due to their mothers being mortal, while my only other Asgardian daughter, Bjergr, was viciously killed and has since been forgotten by most." We both fall silent again at the dark note the conversation had fallen into. In an attempt at replacing that dark look on his face with something else, I decide to make a risky joke.

"You know... Bjergr sounds kind of like Burger..." I say, waiting for either an outburst or a raised eyebrow. He just stares blankly at me.

"Did you just liken my daughter to a... a Midgardian _sandwich?_ " He asks in shock. I shrug.

"S'pose so," I mumble, digging into my food fervently even though I am now more or less full. Although I can't see him, I can certainly hear the silence coming from his end of the table.

Silence which is then broken by a soft chuckle and the sound of cutlery scraping on ceramic.


	11. The History of Shana

**A/N: Sorry this is a day late. Unfortunately, I was having a life yesterday (pesky little buggers), but don't worry, I've returned to the land of the undead.**

 **(Or, in other words, I'm locking myself back in my bedroom eating junk food and reading fanfiction whilst having a Once Upon a Time marathon and maybe knitting an army of mini Rumplestiltskins. Life's so precious...)**

 **Chapter 11**

 **The History of Shana**

The next day sees me sitting on the couch next to Loki while he reads. He had demanded I sit next to him (which is quite unusual).

I've slowly been making my way through the books, happy to finally have something worth reading, though I'd honestly kill for TV- straight out bloody murder with a chainsaw! Well... that might be an over exaggeration, but I still miss my films... It especially pains me to see all those books with film adaptations...

"Shana," Loki says from beside me, his soft voice breaking the silence in the room. I grunt my acknowledgment. "You know of my history, both the good and the bad, but I know nothing of yours..."

"Oh, you wouldn't be interested in my history, Loki. Believe me," I advise him; because really, there isn't nearly as much blood and history in my backstory as there is in Loki's...

"Regardless," Loki says with a dismissive flick of his hand (he's really quite expressive with those hands...) "I told you of my life, and yet you have remained silent of yours. I've become rather intrigued..." he says, looking at me rather intensely.

"...Okay..." I say with uncertainty. I think for a moment, trying to come up with a thought, an idea on where to start. Something preferably interesting.

I come up short.

With a sigh, I begin telling him my meagre, mediocre story. It certainly ain't no superhero/villain heart wrenching origin story, but I guess there isn't much I can do about it now...

"I lived with my Mom and younger brother, Alex, until recently. My Dad had left when I was seven, which had left my Mom absolutely heartbroken. Lexie and I were then raised by my Mom with the help of her close friend, Ben. He's a great guy, really. Lexie and I both see him as our Dad, more or less, but Mom still hasn't gotten over Dad leaving us like he did. We thought that he might have been kidnapped at first, or worse, but all his belongings had disappeared," I pause to check to see if Loki has grown bored yet. It's not exactly a story that's unheard of. At least half of my friends have at least one parent dead or gone, after all. But he still seems interested, no matter how average my story is.

"Tell me about Ben," he says, instead of asking me to move onto the cool, action packed parts of my life (not that there's much to talk about).

"Well..." I say at length, thinking over his personality. "He's quite quiet; a bit of a geek, really. He's somewhat socially awkward, never really dealt well with showing affection with others. But somehow, it worked," I say softly, thinking back to that awkward man that somehow always managed to make me and Lexie laugh, even when memories of my Dad threatened to break me.

"He always found hugging uncomfortable; but whenever I was sad, he always comforted me with a hug, anyway," I say softly, smiling at those pieces if ancient history. "Whenever Lexie needed some fatherly advice, Ben was there to offer it him. I remember when Lexie got his first girlfriend, he went running straight to Ben to ask for advice," I chuckle at the memory. "I think it was for her Birthday; he hadn't a clue what to get her."

"And what of your brother, Alex?" Loki asks, still looking like he actually wants to know.

"He's about four years younger than me," I begin thoughtfully. "He's still doing Sixth Form right now, simply because we were both told that it's kind of like extended schooling, and our school happened to decide to keep doing it. Apparently it used to be a more common thing back in the day or something, I don't know," I ramble, my voice slowly lowering into a faint mumble. I continue in a clearer voice, "But anyway, he's alright. He usually likes to sit in his room playing games a lot; I usually join him either online or in person. I think he got it from Ben, now that I think about it," I finish thoughtfully.

"Hmm, oh well, I don't live with them anymore. After I found a job and a nice College I could work to apply for, I rented a very cheap place close to the College. There's a little travelling, having to get to work from my place, but I managed," I say brightly.

 _And that is my history._

"What is it like within your College?" Loki asks me, though. I stare at him for a moment.

"Erm..." I frown, there really isn't that much to say. "It's kind of square shaped, with another square shaped building near it. One of them deals with all the science and tech, whilst the other is used for studying social and business skills. Kind of average and really boring, actually," I finish with a shrug

"And your course?" he asks.

"Well, I suppose it _can_ be fun," I say reluctantly. "I mean, it was fun when we dissected organs and were taught about Space in one of our Physics units. But really, not a lot of it actually appeals to me. I mean, I'm not really as interested as I thought I would be in learning about the finer details of the difference between an animal cell and a plant cell, and I never really liked maths much, which Physics- and even Chemistry, a little!- both rely on," I complain. Loki frowns, looking a little confused at something.

"But if you had not wanted to learn those... _units_ ," Loki says slowly, seeming to taste the word, "Then why had you chosen to take them?" I shrug. I don't really know anymore. 'Because it looked fun' sounds too stupid, now.

"I've already told you, before," I say, remembering a similar conversation or two we've had. "I wanted to take the course because I thought it would be good for my future," I explain. Loki just continues to stare at me in contemplation.

"But, did this 'College' you attend offer to you any information on the type of courses it offers?" he asks me. I open my mouth, most probably to stubbornly argue, only to close it again. He's got a point...

"W-well, I-" I break off. "Well, it did, I guess," I say slowly. Loki raises an unimpressed eyebrow at my admittance. I immediately get defensive.

"Look, I swear I read the fucking description!" I exclaim defensively. Loki still looks unimpressed.

"Had you, really?" he asks me.

"Yes, I fucking well did!" I snap back. _Technically_ I did, but he doesn't need to know that, does he?...

"Shana," he says, his disapproval melting away into fond amusement, like an owner with an incredibly cute mischievous puppy. "When you lie, you have a habit of not only getting quite defensive, but also swearing increasingly more. And your hands twitch."

 _What? Fuck it._

"They don't fucking twitch," I grumble, clamping my traitorous hands to my lap. Loki laughs.

"Of course not," he chuckles. "Though let this be a warning to you, Shana," he says in a more serious tone, his laughter dying down until only a small shine of amusement lingers in his eyes.

"Of what? That I must not tell lies?" I ask him, raising an enquiring eyebrow at him.

"No, Shana. That you must always read the finer details," he explains wisely.

"Right..." I say slowly. "I would, if I gave a crap, but alas, life's too short and you only live once," I say with a shrug, like that explains everything. "Because we're not all all-powerful beings, you know." Loki sighs in exasperation and shakes his head at me.

"One day, I will teach you," he says decidedly, making me scoff.

 _Yeah, good luck with that one, mate!_ If there's one thing I will always be, it's stubborn, and there's one lesson I have always taken to heart, and that one is to always be yourself. Sure, I might have taken it a little too literally, but still... At least I know that if I ever majorly screw up in life, it will all be my own fault. Of course, that means that I can't go putting the blame on somebody else's shoulders, but I suppose that's just the price of freedom.

"But, anyway," I say, snapping back to focus on Loki. "I had thought at the time that the course was what I wanted. It wasn't, it's sad, I know, but there we have it," I cross my arms across my chest in defiance. "Now I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a little peckish. Nibbles?" I ask him, already heading towards the kitchen. Not even waiting for a reply, I pull out a bowl and bring out the grapes, returning with them triumphantly. I know it was a childish way for me to escape reprimand for not fully doing my research before applying for the course, but it was the best option I had for achieving my ambitious goal in life. I would have seen it through, too, if it weren't for that meddling god. I would have given it my all...

...Well...

...Maybe about... half of my all...

But still! I would have _tried!_... Kinda...

"I gotta say, though," I grumble at last, picking off a delicious looking grape that more resembles a small plum. "That course really was boring as _shit_." I bite into the grape viciously, glaring at the mangled remains in my hand. Loki shakes beside me with repressed laughter.

 _Fucking science._

 **-BREAK-**

The next day, I'm sitting on the couch, reading the first Harry Potter book. Really brings back good memories, of me staying up way past my bedtime trying to sneakily keep my lamp on without Mom noticing while reading through the latest book. I was always either caught, or would wake up half zombified and realising that I'd forgotten the last couple or so chapters of the book.

Well, now I'm older, I can read through it better and actually memorize it, what with me not being half dead due to exhaustion.

Loki is also reading one of his books next to me. It's still so strange, this unusual side of Loki, it's almost... _friendly..._

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Loki turn to look at me. I wait for him to return to his book, as he's really kind of distracting me...

But no such luck. He stays staring at me for a while, and I begin to think that he's really actually cracked. But then, I hear the tell tale intake of breath.

"Your home," he says in almost a whisper, like he's afraid to break the comfortable silence in the room. "What is it like?" I put the book down so I can face him in exasperation.

 _Since when did we switch places?_ I wonder as I look into his curious, green eyes.

"My home with Mom and Lexie, or my rented home?" I ask him.

"Either," he says simply. "Preferably both, though." I nod, thinking of how I can explain them. After all, how do you explain the place you grew up in with words other than 'safe' and 'home'. The other place isn't really a home compared to it. More like a pit stop, until I get a nice big palace of my own, where my biggest enemy is no longer with the bill company, but with the paparazzi instead! But then again, I _have_ heard that they can be even more vicious and unmoving than bill companies...

"My Mom's place is nice," I start with, breaking the silence that had falling during my contemplation. "It's got four bedrooms- one for each of us. The smallest room Mom converted into a little study area that doubles as an emergency rest place for Ben when he decides to help Mom out with me and Lexie, or some other thing or another. It's got a nice sized back garden and even a small garden area round the front," I smile, thinking of home as details begins to surface more strongly in my mind.

"In the back garden, we had this trampoline. It's not that big, and it's currently stored in the shed as both me and Lexie stopped using it years ago, but I remember that we used to fight to try and have a go jumping on that thing. Mom had won it in a competition, you know," I inform him. "Around about when I was ten, and Lexie and I had both thought it was the best thing she could have won! Summers were always the best, just going out; jumping and trying to perform tricks. The amount of times we hurt outselves and nearly gave Mom a heart attack!" I laugh at the memory of that time when Lexie had jumped and landed on the trampoline wrong, and wound up flying into the bushes surrounding the garden. Mom had _shrieked_ when that had happened, and I'll never forget the state he was in when he finally came crawling out, all dirty and with several bugs scurrying around in confused terror on his shirt, and his hair (which had been longer, then) in a horrid tangled state. While I was splitting my sides laughing, Mom _wasn't_ so happy, and had forced him to keep his ruined clothes and wear them for the rest of the week (after being washed regularly, of course), as punishment for being so careless.

"We also have an attic, of course. It's full of all sorts of interesting crap, pieces of history that Mom didn't want to get rid of, but at the same time, couldn't find any place for in our home. Me and my brother were always digging through the stuff, or using the attic while playing hide and seek, or just plain and simply using the place as a fort. Mom was always so upset whenever she found us up there, saying that the flooring was too dodgy for us up there," I roll my eyes. "The way we saw it, she was always regularly going up there. If the floor can take the weight of a full grown woman, we were sure it could take the weight of a couple of school children."

"Was it safe for you?" He enquires, I nod my head enthusiastically.

"Oh, yeah! Well, it certainly seemed so," I amend. "Personally, I just think that Mom just didn't trust the two of us up there, especially with family heirlooms," I admit. Silence falls again as I think about more stories of my childhood, and think about my family more. I really do miss those guys. Though Lexie frequently pissed me off as all younger brothers do with their sister, we still managed to get along well, against all odds. Ben had also helped by always making sure to include us both whenever he played with one of us, usually with board games and consoles so that we were both more involved. He made sure to only focus all his attention on Alex when it came to playing with his toys only during the times when I was busy, usually watching a film or deeply immersed in my own game.

"And what of your other home?" Loki asks, breaking my silent pondering.

"Hm? Oh, well, it's not really that interesting," I say with a grimace. "I've been living there for about a year, now. But there really isn't all that much to say. I broke up with a boyfriend there, though," I shrug. The dick was only after one thing, after all. It's a good thing I decided to wait to give it to the prick, or else that break up would have been _far_ more messier, with a fuck load more blood and gore than just his broken nose. Prick.

Loki raises his eyebrows in interest, though, and starts to open his mouth with a smirk. I raise my hand to stop him.

"Don't ask," I say before he has a chance to say anything. "He was after a personal whore, I refused and kicked him out on his arse. If you want some dirty, juicy gossip, you're definitely not finding it there... well..." I pause. "If you're after a bit of porn, you might find him in a few; that lying little prick," I mutter. Maybe I'm being a little harsh here, but the bastard had damn nearly gone and raped me on the spot, and I have reason to believe that I might not have been his only sweetheart, either...

"But what of your other suitors?" Loki asks me slyly. I frown at the odd wording.

"Suitors?" I ask him. "What's tailers got to do with any of it?" I ask him, wondering if it was some sort of translation malfunction or something. Loki stares at me for a moment, before realisation dawns in his eyes. His hand immediately comes to hold and hide his exasperated face.

 _Did he just facepalm me?_ I think.

"Suitors," he says, finally coming to pinch the bridge of his nose with his hand, "Our word for 'boyfriends' as you call them. Or, rather, potential 'boyfriends', as usually a suitor marries the maiden soon after they are chosen," Loki explains.

"Well, you didn't have to act like that, you drama queen!" I exclaim, he removes his hand to glare at me. "Just saying," I grumble.

"But yeah," I continue on, trying to get back on track. "I've had a couple of boyfriends, excluding that creature as he doesn't count," I sneer at the thought of him. "My first boyfriend was actually my best friend, Ricky. He's a great guy, perfect gentleman-"

"Had he waited until your wedding night to lay with you?" Loki asks, clearly guessing the answer. I snort.

"Come on, Loki," I say teasingly. "No one waits until the honeymoon these days, not even _you_ waited at least for the first date, you hypocrite!" I say, grinning broadly. Loki gives me quite the filthy grin in return, one which makes me feel all sorts of funny things.

"Oh, but I never claimed I was a gentleman," he says with a sexy wink. I blush and look away.

 _Okay..._

"Err," I struggle to kickstart my brain again. Thankfully it starts clanking back into motion, whilst Loki releases an evil cackle beside me, which I try to ignore. "Yeah, Rick's a great guy, we still talk and meet up a lot. We were always great as friends, but as boyfriend and girlfriend?" I shake my head, my face still feeling suspiciously hot.

"And your other... _boyfriend?_ " Loki asks, his condescending tone seeming to make the word 'boyfriend' sound far more stupid and immature than it already was.

"As for the second guy, he was alright. Unfortunately, though, Sam was always the adventurous type. He moved away fuck knows where, and he didn't seem to take too kindly to me choosing to stay closer to home over travelling with him," I shrug, having accepted what had happened a while ago now. "I didn't want to keep him trapped, but I'm quite satisfied with my reliable internet and the College course I had been well on my way to affording at the time."

It was a little sad at first, especially when my first serious boyfriend didn't stick around for longer than a couple of years, but I stopped believing in fairy tales and happily ever after relationships a long time ago. While I know they are possible, I also know that they take either a lot of luck, or a lot of searching. I just like to think that I'm a little less hands-on than some of the other women my age when it comes to searching...

But hey, at least I'm still an innocent little virgin angel compared to Loki.


	12. Bitch Week

**A/N: I would just like to take this time to thank my favouriters and followers. Though I might not be getting quite as much fanfare for this story as some people somehow get on their first chapter alone, it still warms my heart every time my e-mail inbox informs me that someone likes my story. Thank you all so much for your patience, and I hope you don't mind this chapter... :/**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Bitch** **Week**

"Ah, fuck," I groan as I look at the state of my knickers from my place on the toilet. It's a mess. A horrible fucking mess. It's every woman's worst nightmare, the one thing that Loki forgot to prepare for, something which every man tries to purge from their mind.

"No fucking way am I pulling that up," I grumble to myself, staring at the cloth that's soaked in red.

A voice comes from the other side of the door.

"You have been in there for far too long, Shana," Loki warns from outside the bathroom. I glare at the door, feelings of frustration and anger suddenly welling up inside of me.

 _Fucking Loki, fucking kidnapping and all this shitting mess! Fuck!_

"Piss off!" I snarl. "I'm fucking busy in here!" Silence comes from the other side of the door.

"You will not speak to me like that again, Shana," Loki says, danger bleeding into his tone.

 _Oh, don't you_ fucking _fuck with me, you prick!_ I try to clean myself up, hoping that he doesn't come barging in, only to be faced with another problem. My pants aren't the only things that are red.

I groan, sounding almost like I'm in agony as I take in the state of my jeans. I had noticed earlier today that it looked like the ruby festival is in full swing, but I just thought it would be like any other, and I could then casually manipulate Loki into getting some much needed feminine hygiene products without ever having reveal that I am, in fact, female. However, unlike the usual slow start, it looks like this week, this little 'festival' decided to start with bang.

"Oh, no," I groan, looking mournfully at my well worn, only pair of trousers in this place.

"What's wrong?" Loki asks from the other end of the door, suddenly sounding quite worried.

"Nothing, I'm good," I say quickly.

 _Just go, please, go!_ But he doesn't.

"Shana, open this door," he says seriously, testing the knob on the door. Quickly and reluctantly, I draw my pants and jeans up.

 _Eeew_... I think, grimacing at the unwelcome feeling as the god outside starts bashing against the door. I quickly snatch the towel, placing it protectively in front of me to shield my red stained jeans from sight. Loki crashes through only moments later, and I all but sigh in relief. He looks at the towel, a frown gracing his features.

"What are you hiding, Shana?" He almost growls. I roll my eyes at him, trying not to feel too pissed off at him barging in the way he did.

"If you had given me a second to explain myself rather than barging in like the Viking warrior god you try to pretend you aren't," I give him a glare, which he returns tenfold, "I would have told you." Kind of. It's never easy for us ladies to tell the gents that not everything about us is all flowers and roses, after all, and I'm not too sure if Asgardians get the same level of sex education as we do...

Loki continues to glare at me, but there is a hint of worry in his gaze, also...

"What's ailing you?" He asks softly, shifting his eyes to look accusingly at the towel that I stubbornly hold draped in front of me.

"Oh, nothing much," I say, kind of feeling an odd mixture of defeat and embarrassment. "Let's just say, it's _that_ time of the month," Loki stares at me blankly.

 _Oh, don't fucking tell me that I'm going to have to spell it out for him..._ inside, I pray that Loki was told by _some_ woman what us women have to go through each month.

"You know, The Blob?" I hint obscurely. Still blank. I can't help the mischievous urge I get to play on this confusion... "The Time of Reckoning? The Red Sea flowing? Bitch Week? My temporary alter ego of the evil Crimson Surfer, ready to purge the land of Knickerdale of all things clean and white?" I run out of spur-of-the-moment inspired phrases, and just stare at Loki, who's starting to look a little uncomfortable. I laugh at him; I just can't help it right now. I literally cannot resist laughing, especially when he looks even more confused and thrown at my attitude changes, as I'm sure he's noticed them...

Finally, I decide to take mercy on him, especially as he seems just about ready to impatiently tear the towel from my tight grasp so he can get a good look at the 'ailment'.

"I'm on my _period,_ you clueless arsehole!" I cry out, still cackling like the mad woman I most probably am. Loki's face immediately clears.

"Ah," he says shortly, somehow managing to look both relieved and pale in shock and fear at the same time.

"I see you know of this 'ailment'," I say in my poshest accent, grinning at his misfortune. He glares at me.

"As I have already told you, Shana," he says in his best better-than-thou voice. "I am quite familiar with the female form, and read several Midgardian books on your biology. While you menstrate far more regularly than most other humanoid beings I have encountered, it is most certainly not an unknown subject." He actually kind of seems a little offended that I thought he wouldn't know...

I shrug, "What can I say? I don't know what you guys do and don't know," I say smoothly. "I mean, look at Thor for example! From what I've seen of him with that lady friend of his, I'm sure he thinks us mortal ladies fart flowers and bleed liquid gold!" I exclaim. The dark look that had started to overcome Loki's features at the mention of Thor immediately dissipates as he grins and laughs at the thought.

"Yes, he most certainly does seem to act that way," he says, chuckling at what I can only assume is a memory. "But why do you cover yourself like that, if it is as simple as your menstrual cycle?" He asks with the delicacy of a doctor that's been asking the same personal questions for far too many years. That is to say, no delicacy at all. I immediately tighten my grip on the towel protectively and make sure that the thing is fully covering me from his inquisitive gaze.

"It, er..." I trail off a little, feeling myself getting unsettlingly warm in the face. "Well, you see, I've been a little... _late_ with my period. Something which I entirely blame on you, by the way," I glare at him and all the stress he's put me through. Of course, though, it's most probably no one's fault but my own body's that I'm a couple or so weeks late, but he doesn't need to know that.

"But anyway," I say, trying to push my mind back on track. "I thought it would be a slow start, like it usually is, but... let's just say that I think my body's making up for lost time..." I trail off, watching intently as Loki tries to put the pieces together, not really wanting to tell him outright that I bled through my only clothing and now have a vivid red splodge in a very awkward location. He seems to get it though, judging by the light of understanding in his eyes, which shoot down to look at the towel, a grin slowly begins to stretch across his lips.

"I think I understand what you are trying to say," he says slowly, clearly trying to smother his grin, his body shaking from repressed laughter. I narrow my eyes at him, suddenly feeling a rush of anger and, of all things, utter betrayal.

"You fucking prick," I snarl at him. "You can see that I feel uncomfortable telling you about this, you know that I'm embarrassed! Yet you laugh! You're fucking laughing at me, you fucking evil pompous arse, you twat!" Tears start to well up in my eyes, only serving to make my anger and embarrassment even worse. All amusement Loki had originally felt has long since passed, he now seems more shocked than anything else, which for some reason just fills me with irritation.

"What? Run out of laughs, now? Had your fucking fun? Gonna run off and fetch your camera and take pictures of my fucking embarrassment to show all your little pricks my little accident? Well, fuck you, prick," I yell, throwing my towel at his face with as much emotional force as I can. I barge past him, race through the bathroom door and throw myself on the couch, waiting for myself to calm down as I curl up self consciously. The few tears that had been falling during my little fit in the bathroom almost immediately multiply until I'm sobbing into my arms, very aware of the mess that's open for the whole world to see.

I try to grab a hold of my rampant hormones, I try to stop the tears and try to keep at least a small scrap of my remaining dignity intact, but I just can't stop crying. I hear water running in the bathroom, coming from one of the taps. My tears slow down slightly as I try to focus on the sound, trying to figure out what Loki's doing.

 _Most probably washing his hands in disgust of having touched that towel,_ my mind traitorously supplies, pulling another choked sob from my throat as I try to curl in even tighter.

I don't hear his footsteps approaching me, which makes his sudden voice all the more startling.

"I'm filling the bath with water for you," he says, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle. "Leave your clothes just outside of the door, I will use my Seidr to remove the stains for you." I hiccough at his kind words, peering at him through my dishevelled hair and over my shoulder. I give him a grateful watery smile (that's also a little apologetic).

"Thanks," I croak. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch," Loki grimaces.

"Fear not, Shana, for I have known far worse," the horror on his face is almost comical. I immediately brighten up, but don't dare to move in case I manage to dirty the couch with these jeans (or dirty it more so, that is...) Loki sees my interest and smirks.

"The warrior queen of Vanaheim," he says in explanation. Already I can tell from a name like that that her PMS must have been the stuff of legends!

"What was she like?" I ask, wiping away the remnants of my tears.

"She was fierce and noble; loyal to those she ruled over," he says, his eyes glazing over slightly as he's lost in memory.

"What happened to her?" I ask him, noting how he spoke in past tense. He scoffs as he replies.

"I fell in love with her when I was just an adolescent, but she grew to love another," he waves his hand flippantly, showing how it's all just ancient history, even to him. But still I sniff disdainfully at her actions.

"Fucking cougar don't know what she's missing," I announce, now feeling much more happy and cheerful than before.

 _Don't know_ why _I acted like such a hormonal cow before..._

Loki raises an amused eyebrow at my comment, "cougar?" He asks.

"Yep, it means she's an older woman who's into younger guys," I explain, smiling when Loki chuckles at the description.

"She was not a 'cougar,' as you call it, Shana," he says, grinning widely with something that looks like cheeky triumph in his eyes. "If anything, I was more the cougar than she," he says, sounding rather cocky and proud of himself.

"Oh! I see!" I exclaim, grinning back at him. "You sly thing, how old were the two of you? And was this before she became the 'warrior queen' or did she, I don't know, get elected young or something?" I ask him eagerly, barely noticing that I'm now leaning slightly towards him in interest.

"There was fifty years between us," he recalls over my whoop and crude comments. "I was a little over three hundred years old, and she was two and a half centuries."

"But, wait," I say, stopping him from further reminiscing his past flame. "How old would she have been in Midgardian standards?" I ask. After all, sounds like a bit of a gap if they were apparently teenagers. He looks thoughtful as he tries to calculate the ages.

"I would say that I would have been similar to a seventeen or eighteen year old Midgardian, and she would have been roughly similar to a fifteen year old adolescent," he finally decides. I tilt my head thoughtfully.

"That _is_ quite young," I say slowly. "But some girls have dated older men in the past, so I guess it's not too bad..." Besides, I'm sure Asgard has different laws to us Earthlings, anyway...

"Your bath should be ready," Loki interrupts our conversation to say. I honestly had forgotten about the whole mess already, and though I feel embarrassed, I feel a whole lot better than I had before.

"I can tell that you have some experience with the ladies," I say appreciatively as I stand up from the couch and make my way to the bathroom. The tub is now full of steaming water, calling to me with the wisps that float around it.

"And why is that?" Loki asks from where he kneels beside the tub, checking the temperature of it.

"Because you know just how to treat a woman on her period," I say approvingly. I move to stand at the foot of the tub, testing the water to see if it's the right sort of temperature.

"Just a little cooler," I comment, and Loki turns the hot tap off in response.

"I'll leave you to prepare," he says, standing up from where he was kneeling. "Close the tap once the bath is at a satisfactory temperature," he instructs, before taking his leave out the door.

 **-BREAK-**

After finishing my bath, I opening the door, keeping the towel wrapped tightly around me to prevent any... _occurrences_...

Lying on the floor, neatly folded in a way I'll never achieve, lies my freshly cleaned clothes, and something else. I pick up the bundle, scurrying back inside my sheltered little den, and check out the extra stuff that was lying on top of my clothes. It looks like he bought me a pack of sanitary pads and some deodorant while I was having my bath. I quickly dress, trying not to be too creeped out that the pads happen to be just the sort I need (being a bloke, I would have thought he'd get the first pack he finds, rather than the heavier duty kind). I leave the bathroom to find that Loki is, once more, missing from the cabin.

It's almost strange, knowing where he's going now. Knowing that when he goes out, it's to, assumingly, get used to his new form. Out of boredom, I wander through the cabin, not really in the mood to read.

I walk into the kitchen, staring at the food inside each of the cabinets. I could... I don't know... maybe make something nice and elaborate for dinner. How hard could it be?

Yeah... I shut down that idea before it even has time to truly manifest.

I walk into the main living area and stroll towards one of the grand wardrobes lining the cabin. I try to open it, but only to find that it's locked. I squint at it accusingly after a good tug or two yields no response from it.

 _A challenge!_

I search around, hoping to find a pin or something so I can try my hand at unlocking the wardrobe. I search throughout the cabin, finding all sorts of odd little nicknacks.

"Don't know what _that_ is," I mutter, raising an odd little contraception up to my face. It kind of looks like miniature helicopter...

"What are you doing?" A voice asks from behind me. With a yelp, I jump a mile high, reflexively flinging the thingymabob at Loki, who's hand immediately whips out to catch it as it flies towards him.

"Fuck," I gasp, staring at the thing in his hand. "You've really got to stop doing that." He glares at me disapprovingly, gently placing the object back into it's previous location.

"I might," he says slowly. "But first, tell me what you were doing with this," he says, gesturing towards the item sitting comfortably inside a draw.

"Looking at it because I was bored?" I reply, though it sounds more like a question than an answer. He raises his eyebrow at me, looking very disapproving.

"And what entertainment would you derive from waste vessels?" He asks me slowly. Frowning, I narrow my eyes at the words.

"Waste vessels?" I ask him, equally slowly. "Why do I get the feeling that it's going to be something gross?" I ask him suspiciously. Loki smirks at me, increasing my urge to cover my ears.

"Waste vessels," Loki begins his explanation, picking the item of question up to showcase it to me. "Is what an Asgardian uses when he's hunting in the woods, or in the midst of battle." I'm quite reluctant to ask, but it's got to be done...

"And, er... _why_ does he use it?" I ask him, staring at the helicopter type item warily. He gives a cheshire grin as he lifts the item higher.

"This, Shana," he declares, "is the Asgardian version if what you Midgardians call 'toilet paper'." I freeze, staring at the item lying innocently in his hand with horror.

"You're shitting me," I say in disbelief.

"No, but good choice of wording," he says, chuckling a little as he returns the object back into its draw.

"I wasn't holding your shit and piss, was I?" I ask him, horrified with the possibility.

"No," he says, much to my comfort. "I assure you that I actually wash my waste vessels." For some reason, there's something in that sentence that really makes my eye twitch.

"Wait," I say, lifting my hand a little, wanting to get my words out before I lose courage. "You've _used_ that dick trap? And whilst you're at it, are you trying to tell me that some people actually _don't_ wash their crap-catchers after going toilet?" I grimace at the thought.

 _I bet they don't wash their hands either_... I shudder at the thought of what those warrior hands might look like under a microscope.

"And you call _us_ uncivilized," I say, shuddering at the images rushing through my mind. Loki glares at me a little with the last comment, but actually doesn't try to argue it.

"Yes, I have used it," he says instead. "As I have already said, it's used during hunting or in the field of battle when it's the only option, aside from expelling our waste elsewhere like barbarians," he wrinkles his nose in disgust. I don't even bother mentioning that us humans usually have to resort to that very thing...

"Also, there are some Asgardians who never wash their waste vessels. Most usually renew theirs every other week," he continues explaining.

"My week or your week?" I ask him quickly.

"Asgardian week," he replies.

"Which is..." I prompt, hoping that it's not that big of a difference, though then we wouldn't have had to specify who's week we were talking about...

"An Asgardian week lasts for roughly two Midgardian months," Loki explains. My mouth drops open at the news.

"Ewwugh," I'm stuck between the two sounds of disgust. Four months of old and rancid waste? "Do you guys piss drips and shit rabbit droppings or something?" I ask him, my eyes drawn back to staring at the draw in disgust. The thingy had looked so small, as well...

"No, quite the opposite, in fact," Loki says with very obvious humour in his voice. "But I believe it's time for our meal now, Shana," he says with a pointed look.

"Right," I say faintly. "Yeah, dinner..."

He's pretty much killed my appetite with all that talk on shit.

 _I wonder if Thor washes his hands..._

 _... Actually, I'd rather not know..._


	13. Sugar Me, Darlin'

**A/N: Here we have it ladies and gents! The chapter we've all been waiting for! After about a quarter of a book, we finally reach it! Next milestone is in about half a dozen chappies-ish around about. It the meantime, sweet, sweet romance! Huzaah!**

 **Anyway, sorry that I put this chapter up a little later in the evening than might be convenient. I've kind of been off with the fairies yonder in Lala Land the past few weeks... But I assure you, daydreaming aside, I'll make sure to stick up a new chapter every Saturday.**

 **Also, thank you to my beta #1 -Flame of the Dark- for the support , and my newly recruited beta #2 -sosaveme- (I'll get around to fixing the grammar and other errors later. Off with the fairies and all that lot)... XD anyway, enjoy the story, people!**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Suger Me, Darlin'**

Groaning like a zombie, I shamble over to the couch, flopping down on it beside Loki. He continues reading his book as I slouch and whimper, my lower lip quivering as I wrap my arms around my stomach.

"The _pain_ ," I moan, slumping into Loki's side. With a sigh, he closes his book.

"The _agony!_ " I complain, looking up pathetically at his unimpressed face.

"Please... end it now..." I whimper dramatically. He rolls his eyes, putting his book on the side table.

"What is it now?" He asks me, manoeuvring me into sitting upright, and mostly failing as I put on my best rag doll impression.

"The _paiiin!"_ I moan again. "Being a lady sucks! Wanna be a man! Make me a man!" Loki just raises his eyebrow at my requests.

"I take it that you are suffering pain from your menstrual cycle, rather than pain caused by your own doing?" He asks me.

"Nope," I shake my head, grimacing as a sharp, searing pull of agony tears through me. "It was my doing, deciding to go the lazy route and not go that extra mile into becoming a dude... fuck, I can feel my _ovaries_ ," I rub at the offending area, continuing with my whimpering. Loki just keeps his eyebrow raised as he watches me writhe pathetically while cursing every deity (including the one sitting next to me), for deciding that pink frills and dresses was the way to go for me. Seriously, though, do I _look_ like the pink frills and dresses kind of person? Suppose it's a good thing I was born in the twentieth century, when girls don't _have_ to dress like that...

"That's not where the ovaries are located," Loki comments. I eye him shrewdly out of the corner of my eye.

"And how the fuck would you know?" I demand, the agony (and possibly the hormones) making me feel irritable. With a sigh, he fixes me with an exasperated look that screams my stupidity.

"I read," he says simply, before reaches his hand out to me. "Allow me."

I don't know what's more shocking- that Loki's trying to help with the pain, or that I'm letting him with no questions asked. I feel like I can trust him to do this right...

I move my hand from my side, knowing that he's planning on using some of his Hogwarts sorcery to make me feel better. Once it's in place, his hand glows a gentle, subtle green. The pain starts to fade little by little, until it's mostly gone and all that's left of it is a weird sensation, like I _should_ be in pain...

"Thanks," I murmur, still slumped against him. I close my eyes in relief of the lack of pain.

 _Fucking periods._

They're always the same. Always at different levels of harsh pain and torture, ripping me from the inside. When I was young, having my first period at age eleven, I was almost convinced that the bleeding came from my insides tearing themselves apart. It didn't exactly help that the school wasn't all that clear with their sex ed, seeming to think that we were still too young to know where babies come from. Maybe we were, but it's better to get us too early than too late...

"So," I say slowly, shifting comfortably into a better slouching position. "What's it like for all the women of Asgard when that time of month- year- decade- fuck it hits?" I slur slowly, shifting in my seat slightly to have a better view of his face without having to take my head off of his shoulder... which actually isn't really all that comfortable...

 _I feel so weird and numb..._ I grimace at the odd sensation.

"The women of Asgard actually get far worse cycles than those of Midgard," Loki explains calmly as he fixes his eyes ahead. "For the average woman, the cycle usually lasts for roughly a month every other decade, and they usually are forced to spend the majority of the time in the Medical Station for the pain and blood loss."

"No shit," I mumble in surprise.

What do you know, there's a people-like species out there that actually has it worse than us humans...

"I assure you Shana, to you I speak nothing but the truth," he says softly, and it sounds almost like he were making me a promise.

"Yeah, well, don't go making any promises you can't keep," I warn him, finally releasing his shoulder from my captivity so I can level him with a warning look. "There might come a time when I am acting especially stupid, and the best thing the situation calls for is a good old 'everything will be alright.'" Loki looks confused at my words, though whether it's from my wording or the fact that I'm actually telling him not to always speak truthfully to me us hard to tell.

"I'm just saying," I continue, leaning my head back down on his shoulder again. "Every other time, you can say anything you like, from my outfit making me look fat down to you being able to see my moustache-"

"You haven't got a moustache," Loki scoffs, clearly thinking that I'm joking.

"Yeah, that's what every guy thinks," I say ominously, sitting upright yet again to look him in the eyes with mock seriousness. "Look closer and you'll see; the hairs are fine, but they're definitely there," I point to the area just above my top lip, leaning closer to him for him to see it better. He leans away in protest.

"I'd much rather not, thank you very much," he says quickly, raising his hands to ward me off as I threaten to invade on his personal space. I release a loud cackle in response, leaning back once more into a better sitting position.

"I'm just saying," I say, chuckling as I jokingly stroke over the barely there hairs. "You guys aren't the only ones to go through some major hairy changes upon hitting puberty."

"Even now you continue to surprise me," Loki says, gradually easing back into his previous sitting position. "You talk worse than the most brutish of Asgardian warriors!" he exclaims, looking towards my upper lip in distaste.

"I blame it on me going stir crazy," I say stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest and slouching back into the couch. "All day every day, these same four walls," I sigh dramatically.

"You are in quite the melodramatic mood, are you not?" Loki asks in amusement. I shrug, pouting thoughtfully.

"Myeah, I've kind of got back to that phase of hopelessly planning my escape," I say absently, casually bringing my left hand up for my observation, (ugh, when did my nails get so full of dirt?) Meanwhile, Loki tenses up beside me, like as though he actually thinks I stand a possible chance of escaping and is trying to toughen himself up for that possibility.

"Oh?" He says softly, his mouth more or less being the only thing that moves. "And how far have you managed to go in your planning?" I frown in deep thought as I plan my answer out carefully.

"First, I seduce you with my otherworldly lap dancing skills," I smirk at him as seductively as I can (which is about on par with me doing the duck pout), as he eyes me warily. "Then, I snog the living daylights out of ya," I lean forward a little, grinning in a way that most probably makes me look insane. His eyes are actually much brighter than I originally thought they were. "Then the third thing I do is whack you over the head with whatever book you're reading, and make a mad run for the door," I finish, my face only a couple of inches from his, now.

 _Since when did this happen...?_

"And if I catch you?" Loki asks softly, his eyes tracing over my face; not turning away, not pushing me back. My mind quickly supplies me with a multitude of cheesy pick-up lines, like 'you've already caught me,' or 'then I'll just fall harder..."

... Actually, that last one's pretty shit...

But that's not what I say (thankfully).

"Then I'll just have to summon my pet dragon, Draco, and have him finish you off," I say decisively. He stares at me, seemingly uncertain on how he should respond to this.

"Your pet dragon," he says slowly, like he doesn't quite know what to make of it.

"Yep! Then he'll fly me to the sun set and beyond, yonder to safe haven, sanctuary, home, family, life, utopia, my compu-" my senses are suddenly overwhelmed by sensation.

I feel his hands gripping my face tightly; far too smooth considering his thousand-plus years of wars...

I smell the scent of Loki; undefinable, but if I were to summon any sort of likeness, I'd say it ironically reminds me of winter.

As I flutter my eyes, I see green as his stare into mine; passionately, and kind of seeming a little bit irritated, for some reason. Not that it matters...

I hear the blood rushing through my head, and the sounds of...

I taste...

There's nothing else in the world but this kiss. His tongue had only just greeted mine when he pulls away, looking only a little shaken.

"Fuck me," I gasp, staring at him in shock; a look which he returns tenfold.

"What?" He finally asks, looking a little disturbed. I frown at him, thinking over what I'd said... and then realised _exactly_ what I'd said.

"Oh," I chuckle, my body now finally catching up with the situation at hand as a blush creeps up my face. "Well, I mean, if you want to... but I really, you know, meant like, you know, what I... erm... I," I stammer to a halt as Loki pulls me back towards him, my lips colliding with his as he hugs my body close.

 _Well, fuck me,_ I can't help but think again. Whilst I might not be quite as... _adventurous_ as Loki where beds are concerned, I've had a few kisses in my time.

Though none of them have been this intense. I know what people say about people who kiss their captors; that it's wrong, and those poor people obviously need help. But this doesn't feel wrong; it feels so damn _right_ , like we've been pushing towards this moment for the last... month?

Whatever, time doesn't mean anything anymore. Especially not when I have his cool, gorgeous tongue expertly poking around my mouth and overwhelming my tastebuds with the taste of winter.

Finally, we break free to breathe, with me still clutched tightly to his firm body.

"Fuck..." I breath again, not capable of saying anything else.

"So you keep saying," Loki says in amusement, looking a little dazed as he stares down at me.

"Yeah, but... _fuck_..." I say again. There's a thousand things I want to say, like why did he kiss me? What did he mean by the kiss? Am I now pregnant with his alien babies? But my brain is obviously still short circuiting, because... _fuck_...

Loki's face quickly closes off as I stare blankly at him. He releases me, shifting so he sits as far away from me as the couch would allow.

"My apologies; I had not realised that my desires were not returned. Now I'll just-"

"Shush," I stop him from talking any further, placing my finger on his lips to help shut him up. "Just... let me gather my brain back together for a moment again, okay?" I ask him, my words about as big of a jumbled, wavering mess as the rest of me. With a frown, he nods; lowering the finger I hold to his captive lips and freeing his mouth.

"Thanks," I say softly, my eyes lowering to his lips. Why would he kiss me? That's all I need to know right now. The how and the what ifs can come later. Right now, I need to know if he's just messing with me or not.

"Why did you kiss me?" I ask him, breaking the thick silence that had fallen between us. His eyes immediately light up, gleaming with a very suspicious light; a rather _mischievous_ light...

"You were starting to ramble," he answers simply, and I gape at him in response.

I don't know what I was expecting from him in way of an answer, but I think it might have been something along the lines of, 'I'd been planning for this for many moons now, and I had thought that now was the time to claim ye, my sweet, gentle, caring Shana'... or something along those lines...

Obviously, that's not the case...

"What about my rambling?" I ask him, getting a pretty strong, almost psychic feeling in my gut that I seriously won't much like his answer.

"When you talk, there is only one way to make you stop; which is by distracting you with something of far greater importance," Loki explains, his smirk now back in full force. "I most certainly did not want to listen to another word of you speaking of how much you miss your dear, beloved computer, so I took matters into my own hands."

 _Ever the charmer._

"So, what? You kissed me just to shut me up?" I ask him, feeling quite offended at the thought.

"Well, that and more," Loki admits, his voice almost a purr. He shifts forward, watching me intently as he rests his hand lightly on my forearm.

"Shana, I have already told you how you appear to me. Do you really wish for me to write entire ballads on your beauty alone, with lyrics for your... _unconventional_ personality? Because I could easily do so, if you wished it," he says, his voice growing softer as his eyes seem to drown in mine.

My heart picks up in pace as I stare back, suddenly feeling like I've been sucked into every teenage girl's daydream. Here I have a literal god, confessing his attraction to be, even going so far as to kiss me!

I feel so bewildered on what's happening, and how this came to happen. But for some strange reason, it doesn't feel at all wrong. All the pieces click together, and with it comes the realisation that we've skipped past many little stages in our relationship over the past month or so; but yet not a single milestone was missed.

 _So_ this _is the word I've been looking for_ _-_ _for what's going on between us,_ I think as the silence stretches on, but doesn't feel so uncomfortable anymore. Awkward? Maybe a little. Confusing? Very, at least for me.

 _When did this happen?_ I think once again, blinking my eyes away so I can blush more discretely.

It's all I can think for a moment, trying to gather my brain back together. When I finally have enough reasoning for speech, I wish I just stayed silent with what comes flooding from my mouth.

"Does this mean we're, I don't know... dating, now?" I blurt, but manage to have the forethought to keep my eyes focused on the floor so I don't have to see his expression. He's silent for a moment, though I haven't a clue whether it's good or bad.

"If you wish," he finally says to break the silence. "You don't have to be romantic with me if you do not wish it, Shana. Your mind is your own, and I would understand if you would prefer if things returned to how they were before, what with my previous activities on Midgard." I lift my eyes to meet his, and see the solemn truth in them. I make my choice as I stare into his intense green eyes.

"Okay," I say softly, my voice barely above a murmur. "But only if you promise not to treat me like some Asgardian whore," I narrow my eyes threateningly, because whether or not he was revered as a god, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

And I can make for a _very_ pissed off woman.

"The ladies of Asgard are most certainly not whores," Loki informs me calmly. "But I assure you that I will treat you as a Prince should treat his chosen future consort. Like the Goddess and Queen she is."


	14. A Touch of Magic

**A/N: Sorry it's a little late, but hey! At least I updated! XD**

 **Which is more than can be said for my other mostly deceased stories which I might or might not return to at some point with some sufficient motivation...**

 **Anyway, moving on to happier matters: I really can't wait for Tony Stark to enter this story. That's not really a spoiler as this is a very. Very. LONG. Story, and one that's in the 'Avengers' fandom rather than 'Thor' for a reason, but imagine Shana and Tony in the same room as each other. Stuff of legends, people! And not the good kind of legends, either...**

 **Anyway, hope you like this chapter, and remember: favourite, follow and review.**

 **Chapter 14**

 **A Touch of Magic**

Every little girl wishes she could find her Prince Charming. Every girl believes in love at first sight, true love's kiss and every romantic thought linked to Disney. Even I heard of these stories, and believed in them.

But then I grew up. Suddenly, there was no such thing as true love, only those you trust enough to care for. Love didn't last forever in my eyes, which was a sad and depressing thought.

Every little girl wants someone who would complete them for the rest of their life, someone who can make them feel ageless and beautiful, and make them feel more loved than ever.

We are selfish creatures, us girls. We want what we can't get, and we want to feel good about it.

Is what Loki and I have love? Do I love him? Maybe. Does he love me? Probably not.

But we are selfish creatures.

Even as we walk through the woods, with me peering at him from the corner of my eye, I haven't a clue where we're going with this. He's hot and sexy, and not to mention a fucking powerful super villain (which is apparently my secret fetish).

He has a thousand years plus of experience, and blue blood running through his veins (maybe even literally). And that's another point- the man is an alien. A whole other species from myself...

And me? I'm Shana White-Friar. I'm a College student in a course that I'm shit at; I have average looks and an average mind with average blood running through it. I can be vulgar as crap in a toilet and some people occasionally mistaken me for a bloke (not sure why as I'm fairly sure I still look like a girl, and have even known a few girls who talk _worse_ than I do).

Is it because I accept him for who he is- for _what_ he is? Because I'm sure there are a lot of other women who would do the same. Would he move on to someone better than me once he realises this?

I don't know why I'm having these thoughts; I'm usually far more relaxed than this. Maybe I _am_ in love. People always say that love can turn anyone into a fool, and I'm certainly feeling foolish.

"Shana?" We've stopped walking; Loki's watching me with green eyes filled with worry.

"What?" I ask him, frowning at the concern I see clearly in those eyes.

"I... asked you a question. You didn't show any reaction to it," he says, his brows drawing closer together in concern. I sigh, lowering my head slightly to look towards the floor.

 _Just empty your mind and live in the now,_ I say to myself as I stare at the ground.

"Sorry, Loki," I mumble, watching as an ugly little spider with a fat arse makes its way around Loki. "I just... why do you want me?" I finally ask him, unable to hold the question back any longer. Perhaps it's because I'm not looking him in the eyes. Things are always easier to say when you're not actually looking at the person you're talking to. Or is it just me who thinks that?

Loki is completely silent for a while. The spider has long since vanished from my sight, leaving me to shift my eyes over to a scuttling woodlouse, who seems a little confused given his awkward, chaotic running. As the moments stretch on, I begin feel a little like that blind or mentally handicapped woodlouse.

"Loki?" I finally say, raising my eyes to look at him. He's staring at me with his face blank and emotionless. "Are _you_ okay?" I ask him slowly.

This is awkward. Are we dating now? Should we date? I knew how to act around him before, but now I'm not so sure.

"Yes, of course," he finally murmurs, though he's still giving me an odd, unnerving look.

"Are you sure?" I ask him slowly. I really wouldn't want him to suddenly turn against me in a random fit of rage, or something. Is that why he's looking at me like that? Is he angry with me? Am I supposed to say a certain phrase? How should I know? He's literally from a whole other world!

Maybe we shouldn't do this. Perhaps we should stop whilst we're ahead, and go back to being friends again.

"Beautiful," I hear the soft whisper of the word. Surprised, I turn to look back towards the man in front of me, as I'd previously returned to admiring that scuttling woodlouse again. He's still staring at me with that same blank expression, but it somehow seems more intense now.

"What?" I ask him as I shield my eyes against the strong sunlight that had managed to worm its way through the overhead leaves and straight onto my face. He frowns and blinks several times, now finally stopping the weird blank look he'd been giving me.

"It was nothing, Shana," he says, turning his head away from me to face in the direction we were originally heading towards (I assume). "The day is passing by us, and I would much rather get this finished with sooner rather than later."

Either I'm hearing things, or Loki's feeling embarrassed at being caught giving me a compliment...

 **-BREAK-**

I look around the miniature clearing, noticing the absence of flowers as it makes way for winter. It looks like it might be the same clearing I saw back when Loki accidentally froze me. Loki stands a few steps ahead of me; his body is riddled with tension.

I might have put in my own encouragement, but this was his idea. He wants to show me exactly who and what he is- both the good and the bad. I generally disagree with him, though.

The way I see it, the actions he did the last time he was on Earth is the bad part of him. Everything else is just Loki.

"I am only showing you this because you've already seen it," Loki makes sure to remind me from where he stands in the middle of the small clearing. I nod my understanding, as it _is_ still his greatest shame. I honestly don't get why he's so ashamed, as the Frost Giants seem quite formidable. Don't his people appreciate strength and power?

Slowly, his pale skin bleeds into a strong, dark shade of blue. The green of his irises and the whites of his eyes are overthrown by the rich red that seeps into them.

But everything is still the same old Loki. He stands there, looking at me with more than a little uncertainty- I see it, even as he tries to mask his self-consciousness. I walk forward with one hand slightly outstretched, hoping to touch the beautiful lines etched into his skin. He jerks his head away from my hand.

"No," he says softly. "You cannot touch me while I am in this form." I frown in confusion, thinking back to the religions book.

 _Did it say anything about not being able to touch their skin? Or is he just being weird and shy?_

I let my hand fall limply to the side as I step forwards in curiosity. I come to a stop a few feet away from him- just far enough that I won't get burned or set off some kind of panic attack, but just close enough to be able to analyse the ridges in his skin.

"What do they mean?" I wonder aloud. Loki frowns in confusion at my question. "Your marks," I explain quickly. "I wonder what they mean." Understanding flickers through his eyes, but he's still frowning.

"I know not what they mean. Not that it matters- I am still a monster. I am still a beast." Self loathing twists his face as he levels a harsh glare to a dark blue hand he'd raised for inspection.

 _Right. That's it._

I roll my eyes at his melodrama and take a stubborn step forwards.

"Please," I say in fed up exasperation. "Stop calling yourself a monster and a beast all the time. You're making this entire situation sounds like some cheap, shitty Disney knock off story- and I ain't no pretty Disney princess!" You know, saying that, Loki kind of fills most of the roles for your average Disney film...

He's the villain, the magic user, the 'beast', the handsome prince charming, can most probably summon the talking animals, comes from a realm of magic and he's a pretty little princess, too...

Loki shifts his frowning gaze from his hand to my face, clearly not getting the reference at all.

"Dude, you really need to get a TV," I tell him gravely. "How can I make references to things when you don't even know about Disney? And as for your hatred of your own body because, I don't know, you're afraid of killing people accidentally-"

"That's not why," Loki swiftly cuts in to inform me.

"Well, I call bullshit on that, then," I declare forcefully, getting more than a little pissed off with his constant fountain of self pity. "Sure, you guys can freeze people solid with naught but a glance. But other than those dangers, why do you hate yourself so much?" There's silence in the baby clearing as Loki considers his answer.

"Throughout my entire life, Frost Giants have been considered the evil of the realms. They are nothing but barbaric berserkers who should be killed like the rabid dogs they are," his face darkens at a frightening rate as he explains his hatred for the race.

"Well that got dark quick," I comment lightly, though I'll admit that the slightly crazed bright red eyes are starting to unnerve me just a little...

"Look, Loki, I-" without really realising it, I automatically reach out towards him. Loki flinches back from my approaching hand and whips his own hand out- most probably to ward off my advancing touch.

Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet grows incredibly slippery. My feet slide for a moment, trying to find some dry and stable ground, but it's no use. Before I know it, I'm falling.

I'm only falling for a fraction of a second, before I come to a sudden stop. Ice cold agony splits through my upper arms, causing me to cry out in pain. The harsh stabs of pain promptly vanish, to be replaced with a dull, but still painful throb. I look up to see Loki now standing a couple of steps away from me and staring down at his hands disgustedly.

"My apologies, Shana," he says softly, his eyes rising to look into mine. "I told you. I'm nothing but a monster. Even whilst trying to prevent you from injuring yourself, I still succeed in nothing but causing you pain." His fists his hands by his sides in silent fury while turning his gaze to glare harshly at the ground.

"Look, I'm okay. Really, it's just a little- hey, wait a second!" I narrow my eyes as I fully process what he'd just said. "You cheeky little bastard!" I accuse, trying to keep the small smile off of my face. Loki is quiet for a moment as he stares at me in confusion.

"Pardon?" he finally asks me, tilting his head to the side slightly, acting as though he's trying to hear me better.

"You!" I point towards him as I lose the battle with my lips, which stretch into a wide grin. "You were trying to 'prevent me from injuring myself,' eh? Like some damsel in distress? Well, I know that you're my Prince Charming and all that shit, but I'm- hey! That reminds me! If you're Prince Charming, does that make me your Snow White or summat? Personally, my favourite was always Treasure Planet, though I don't know who we'd be in that film. The cat lady and the dog? I'm sure you'd be the cat lady, as you're really posh and all that shit. I'm most probably the dog guy because I'm fluent in crap chat or whatever. Speaking of crap, do you-"

"Shana, are you alright?" Loki interrupts me to ask. He's leaning away from me slightly, looking just a little bit overwhelmed. I roll my eyes at his concern, though I still admittedly appreciate it.

"What, you mean this?" I lift my right arm for him to see and gesture towards it- his eyes widen comically. "Look, it's fine. It's a little on the hot side, but chill Loki... heh, geddit? Chill?" I snigger slightly behind the hand of my raise arm. It really feels quite warm and stings a tiny bit, but otherwise I don't know what's so bad...

"Humans suffer from a condition called 'shock,' do you not?" Loki asks warily, cautiously reaching out towards my arm.

"Yeah, sure, what of it? And what the fuck?" I protectively move my arm from his slowly approaching hand. His hand comes to a halt as he flicks his gaze towards his outstretched hand to glare at it darkly. I sigh in frustrated exasperation at his behaviour.

"Let's role play for a second and pretend we're in Frozen," I suggest slowly and calmly. "Just... conceal, don't feel, until you've learned to manage your magical slushy powers of doom," he glances away from his hand to stare at me in confusion. "Just... switch back to human Loki, for now." His face clears in understanding of what I'm trying to suggest, and slowly his original colourings return. He still looks a little bitter, though I know it's mainly towards himself rather than towards me. We've obviously still got a long way to go before he starts accepting the fact that he's just a little bit more special than all the other kids...

"I am not human," he stubbornly says as the last traces of blue vanish from the visible patches of skin.

"Yeah, sure. You're some great god and all that shit, just about everyone knows that by now," I grumble as I let him take hold of my arms for inspection. The damage on my injured arms, now that I'm actually looking at them, seems far worse than I had originally thought. While it doesn't look like full on frostbite, the skin is a bright, savage red and cracked like the desert. I grimace at the sight of yet more damage to my poor, abused skin.

"As I said," Loki softly says, his sombre eyes staring at my already scarred arm. "Not a human. A monster." He releases my arm and quickly steps back, away from me. I frown at him, knowing exactly what he means. I step towards him and reach my hand out to hold his hand. He looks at me in confusion and tries to step away, but I refuse to let go of my hold.

"Shana," he says warningly, and I know that if he were to really put some effort into it, I would have no choice but to let go- but he does nothing. All he does is give me a panicked, pleading look.

"No, Loki," I say softly. Something seems to switch in him, his eyes darkening just slightly. "I won't let go." The darkness leaves his eyes, to be replaced with shock.

"What?" he asks me, standing stiff and still.

"You're not a monster," I tell him again, vowing to myself that I'll keep repeating those same words until he finally gets it into his thick head that it's the truth. "A monster deliberately hurts people for the sake of it, with no reason and no remorse. You hurt me by accident, and you apologized for it-"

"I killed many of your people," Loki quickly buts in to say.

"Well, I can't really judge as I don't know what your reasoning was- if there was any reason at all. But whether or not you were a monster back then, something has obviously changed since then." He's quiet for a long moment, apparently thinking of what I just said. After a while in which he just stands there, staring at our joined hands, he says a single word.

"You."

"What?" I ask him, not quite understanding where he's getting at. "What about me?"

"You understood me, Shana. You are the difference." I stare blankly at him, slack jawed and in shock. Surely I didn't impact him enough to _change_ him. As he's been so fond of saying, us mortals are barely anything- blink and you miss us! I doubt I'm the only one like me.

"We should return now," Loki interrupts my internal pondering to say. "I think that I should experiment with my... _new identity_ on my own. At least for now." I open my mouth to argue against it, but Loki shakes his head. "Remember, Shana. This is strange for me, too."

Admitting defeat, I follow him into the cabin, all while telling myself that though he still hates the look of his other form and is most probably ashamed of it, we're making progress.


	15. Dreamer

**A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than most of the others, but I'm sure you guys wouldn't mind. An important little question for you all to answer, though (don't go tripping over each other in your mad rush to answer! XD ): should I keep to the movie relationships, the comic relationships, or my own relationships? Loki obviously excluded.**

 **Also, thanks to my fans- you might not be many (yet), but thank you all for the support, especially those who took the time to leave their reviews.**

 **Now, on with the story!**

 **Chapter 15**

 **Dreamer**

 _I'm flying. Soaring through the clouds, over the forest and the towns below. It's all so beautiful and magic up here in the sky. I hear a great whooshing sound next to me, prompting me to turn my gaze away from the view and towards my companion._

 _"Who are you?" I ask the large flying beast. He turns his head to look at me, and I get the most unusual feeling that he's_ smiling _at me._

 _"Did you know that even the gods worship higher beings?" The creature says in his soft, gentle voice. I frown at the apparent subject change._

 _"No?" I say slowly, wondering what this has to do with the creature's identity. "Why? Are you their god?" It's only logical to assume it. After all, why else was he bringing this up?_

 _The creature laughs cheerfully at my question before he says, "No, Shana. I am not their god."_

Then why bring it up? Unless...

 _"Am_ I _their god?" I ask him slowly, dearly hoping that he'll say yes._ _W_ _ouldn't that be something? Shana White-Friar, goddess of the gods. Yet again he laughs, only this time it's more so._

 _"No, Shana," he finally says, though there's still a hint of a chuckle to be heard in his voice._

 _"Then why bring it up if neither of us are fucking gods?" I ask him, feeling quite frustrated, now. The creature tilts his head to the side from where he sits in front of me on the great grassy plain we're both sitting on._

 _"Because anyone can be a god," he says slowly as he starts picking at the grass with his great scaley_ _paws._ _(_ _A_ _re they paws? Feet? Hands? Claws?) "Take Captain America, for example. He started out small and scrawny, and yet look at him now! He'll forever be remembered as the first modern superhero- immortalized as such, should he ever even die."_

 _"So... are you saying that I_ could _become a god?" I ask him, trying to wrap my head around the relevance of this entire conversation._

 _"No," he says again, delicately plucking a small daisy from the ground and lifting it to better admire the flower. "There is a lot ahead of you, Shana. You wanted a life of adventure, of romance and mystery and superheroes and drama. You wanted it all. As you can see with Loki, you're getting exactly what you wanted. I'm only preparing you for what comes next." He throws the flower to the side, turning his large green eyes to watch me expectantly._

 _"But what's this got to do with their gods?" I ask him, steadily growing more confused by the second._

 _"It's simple, really," the creature says as he moves his great body to stand up. "They have chosen the recipe. Now, they are set to make their new favourite toy."_

I blink my eyes open, frowning as the dream I've awoken from swirls around in my mind. Parts of it drift away like whispers in a storm, but some parts of the dream are cemented in my mind. Especially the last part of it.

What did the creature mean by those last parting words? Why do I keep dreaming of him? Who are these gods? Are they the Norns that Loki occasionally talks about, and the book briefly mentioned?

Sitting up, I turn my head towards Loki's bed. Wide awake, he's sitting with his back propped against the pillows, with a book safely nestled on his lap. He seems deeply engrossed by the book.

"Did you have pleasant dreams?" I'm startled from my observations by Loki's question, having thought that he was completely oblivious to anything that's not happening directly in front of him.

"It was alright," I tell him honestly. "Weird, but alright."

"I thought as much," Loki says as he places a bookmark delicately between the pages of his book, closing it gently. "You had spent several minutes mumbling about dragons, gods and 'fucking morse code' before you finally woke up." I don't know what I'm more shocked by: Loki swearing, even by quote; or that he could even understand my sleep babble. Friends have recorded my sleep babbling in the past, and it's always sounded like whispered mumbling that not even I can translate.

"That... sounds about accurate," I admit slowly, ducking my head at his annoyed glare.

"I could hardly read with your constant talking, and telling you to be silent did _nothing_ ," he rants, looking a little mad.

"Well, I'm sorry you couldn't read for a couple of minutes," I huff, crossing my arms in a very grown-up manner. And thus, our first meaningless bicker as a couple begins.

" _Fifteen_ minutes, Shana!"

"Seriously? Fifteen minutes on the dot?"

"Of course not. If such matters mean so much to you, then it was exactly fifteen minutes, 37 seconds and 29 milliseconds."

"Wow! And you call _us_ time obsessive!"

"And the other night you were making noises of a most private nature-"

"Now _that_ was an alright dream!"

"Please cease with talking in your sleep, I have learned things I have no business in knowing about you."

"You could if you want, baby," I wink cheesily at him, gaining a delicious eye roll in return.

"Could you please halt with your rapier wit for a moment and... and..." he trails off, obviously giving up on his impossible campaign to shut up a sleeping person. Silence falls between us in the aftermath of our not quite bloodthirsty argument. After a few minutes of quiet, I stand up from the couch, intent on heading for the toilet, when I hear some soft chuckling coming from Loki's direction.

"Exactly what _were_ you dreaming of?" He asks me, a wide grin spread across his lips.

"In which dream?" I ask him with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on my lips, unable to stop myself from messing with him for just a little bit longer. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow at my attempt at crude humour.

"Okay, okay. Sorry, sorry, sorry," I say, raising my hands in surrender. "Really, though. It's nothing. It's only this dream I've been having," I explain, hoping to ward off the questions. After all, weird though the dream may be, it's just a dream. What if it's nothing? It's not like it might kill me if I keep quiet or anything...

"It may be of no importance," Loki says gently, climbing off of his bed and walking towards the couch I'm still sitting on. "But the Norns have been known to communicate in many strange ways." Silence falls between us as he sits beside me, staring at me intensely as he waits for my response.

I turn my eyes to the window set opposite the couch as I carefully gather my thoughts. Evidently it's very early in the morning, if the faint light outside and the dark blue of the sky are any indication. The only thing that breaks the quiet between us is the sound of the birds just starting to sing.

"You need not tell me, of course," Loki says from beside me; his voice is loud compared to the delicate quiet of the morning. "But on Asgard, dreams are held with high respect for the knowledge they could give the dreamer." Frowning slightly, I turn to face him.

"It really wasn't anything special," I say, but this time I say it in a tired tone, rather than defensive one. There's no use arguing against him, after all. "It was only a dream of me flying in the air next to this weird giant lizard who told me some stuff," I shrug nonchalantly while Loki, for some reason, continues to stare at me intensely.

"Were his scales black?" is the first thing Loki asks me. I stare at him for a moment, wondering what the relevance is of whether or not he had black scales.

"Yes," I say, nodding my head slowly. "Black scales, green eyes and enormous wings." Loki slowly nods his own head as though in understanding of something. (Of what? It was only a dream- my _imagination!_ )

"Did he have a soft, gentle voice?" Loki then asks me. I tense up, my eyes widening at the question.

 _How did he know that? Did I even mention that the creature spoke? Is this one of those crazy cases of shared dreams?_

"Yes," I respond carefully, frowning at Loki in suspicion, as I'm pretty sure this sort of thing only happens in films.

"A final question, Shana," Loki says gently, leaning forwards in attention with his forearms resting on his knees. "Did this dark scaled winged creature resemble a Midgardian dragon?"

For some reason, this question leaves me with chills racing through my body. Why didn't its appearance register with me? Why didn't I realise before now that he looks exactly like a dragon? I've seen plenty of dragons in my life- they're fucking popular mythological creatures!

But how did Loki _know?_

"Yes..." I whisper softly, thoroughly creeped out.

 _What the fuck is happening with my life?_

"I thought as much," Loki comments with a knowing nod. "Recently, I have been having similar dreams." He doesn't really need to say anything- I already gathered as much. I nod my head blankly as I stare ahead. It's a small thing, finding out that Loki's been dreaming of the exact same sort of thing as me... or, at least, it's small compared to a lot of the _other_ stuff that's happening in my life right now.

 _What the_ fuck _is happening with my life?_

"I believe the Norns are trying to tell us something. Possibly even trying to warn us of what is to come," Loki continues to hypothesize. I nod my head slowly again.

"What did the dragon say in your most recent dream?" Loki asks me, I cock my head in response and think back to the dream I just had.

"A few things," I say with a shrug. "Something about your gods, a bunch of stuff about destiny... and something about the gods having their recipe, and working on creating their favourite toy... or something along those lines..." I shake my head to clear it a little.

 _It's_ _too early in the fucking morning for this..._

Loki continues to stare at me intensely as he leans back on the couch. For a long moment, all that can be heard in the room is the sound of the birds outside.

"So... what do you think?" I eventually ask just to break the suppressing silence.

"Nothing," Loki says slowly. "Not at the moment, at least. The message could mean anything, or it could just be the simplest answer." He falls into silence again. As the seconds tick by, I realise he's not going elaborate without a little bit of pushing.

"So what's the simplest answer?" I prompt, shifting a little closer towards him as I await an answer. He opens his mouth to answer, but changes his mind. Closing it for a moment, he returns to staring at me intensely. Taking his time, he raises one of his hands, brushing it against the side of my face as a small, sad smile crosses his lips.

"There are a couple of them," he says slowly, shifting his hand to cup my face gently. "Perhaps he meant you? That I am the one who enables your future?"

"Maybe," I accept, leaning my head slightly into the affectionate touch. "But that's not the one you're thinking of, is it?" The hand drops limply from my face.

"I must admit," Loki says as he carefully looks into my eyes. "The second option is the one I hope for the most."

"Is there any chance you'll tell me what it is, exactly?" I ask him. He frowns as he stares at me thoughtfully for a few seconds longer.

"No," he finally says. "Just know that if I'm right, you will find out sooner than you planned for."


	16. The Seventh of December

**Chapter 16**

 **The Seventh of December**

How long has it been, now? I keep forgetting to ask. As I stir the pot of stew that's slowly cooking on the hob, I ask myself that question. It feels like weeks, but it could just as easily be months.

So much has changed. What would my friends and family think of me, should I ever come back to them? Would I tell them about our... _relationship?_ Would they be happy? Concerned? Angry? They'd most probably be concerned, and for good reason!

Even I question my sanity, lately.

I soon feel Loki's presence behind me; his arms slowly wind around my waist.

"More stew?" he asks in clear disgust. I don't have to see his face to know that he's currently sneering at the food presently being lovingly cooked.

"Yes," I say shortly. "More stew." I know I shouldn't really blame him. A guy can't help his royal upbringing, after all.

So crippling. So... _debilitating_ , being raised by the king and queen of the gods. Tragic. Really.

"I have taught you how to prepare many meals, Shana," Loki says into my ear with his head resting lightly on my shoulder. "Yet you always return to these simple dishes."

"Loki, no amount of sweet talking is going to stop me from dishing this up," I warn him, turning the temperature down a couple of notches to stop the stew from boiling over.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he says while watching me slowly stir the mixture. "I was merely suggesting that we have some extra variety for our meals." With an annoyed huff, I spin around and point the wooden spoon threateningly towards him.

"You've got a problem with my cooking?" I ask him, my eyes narrowed.

 _The old bastard knows I don't do cooking._

He opens his mouth, suddenly looking quite unsure- maybe even _scared_.

"Now, Shana," he says, lifting his hands to signal surrender. "I never said that..."

"Then shut up or cook." Grabbing one of his raised hands, I place the wooden spoon in his open palm and quickly manoeuvre him in front of the oven.

"Just... stir it until it looks like stew," I helpfully instruct over my shoulder as I rush out of the kitchen before he realises what I've done.

 _Nobody messes with my dinner, princess._

 **-BREAK-**

Dinner was fairly quiet. Loki and I eat our stew in silence, with Loki frequently giving me cautious glances. Laid out in the centre of the table are several side dishes to go along side the stew- just simple stuff, like meats and salads. I pick at the salad sitting on the plate beside my bowl of stew, deeply set in my own mind.

What would I be doing right now if I were safely at home, rather than here? I must admit, things are a lot easier now with Loki, although I still miss my family.

They must have surely noticed that I'm missing by now. Every other day, Mom would call to check up on me- to see if I'm alright, or if I've settled in with my course. She must be beyond worried, now.

How long has it been, though? How long have my friends and family been stressing over me for?

There's only one way for me to be sure.

"Loki," I call softly.

"Yes, Shana?" he raises his head, still looking worried that I might abandon my dinner entirely and just bite his head off instead.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," I berate with a eye roll.

"Like what?" He asks me carefully.

"Like I'd go all praying mantis on you and bite you pretty face off," I say with a teasing smirk spread across my lips. "I only wanted to ask you what the date is."

For a brief moment, confusion takes over his features, but realisation quickly dawns.

"I believe it is the seventh of December," he informs me. I stare at him blankly for a moment. Should I be shocked? Horrified? Or maybe just relieved that it's not worse than it could have been?

"The seventh of December," I repeat emotionlessly. It was... what? Mid to late October when I arrived here? So that means I've been here for...

"2 months," I say, still not quite sure how I'm supposed to react. On the one hand, it feels like it's been much longer than that; yet it means I've missed so much.

"Actually," Loki says, gently placing his cutlery back on the table as he looks into his half full bowl. "It has been 51 days."

I don't quite know whether this helps the matter or fucks it up even more. There's only one thing my mind focuses on.

"So... I missed Halloween?"

Loki raises his eyes to stare at me. Not a thing can be heard as we stare at each other- him in stunned bewilderment and me in blank shock.

"It's a... mortal holiday," I explain when he doesn't respond to my question.

"I... suppose so..." he says slowly, his concerned eyes slightly narrowed.

Leaning forward in my seat, I move my bowl and plate to the side, making way for my elbows. Resting my forehead in my hands, I stare towards the stew and the salad set in the middle of the table, though not really seeing them.

"I missed Halloween..." I mutter mostly to myself, the facts now starting to settle in. "I missed bonfire night... I missed my Mom's birthday... I missed one of my friends' birthday... no... _two_ friends' birthdays, and I'm about to miss Christmas..." Loki's silent for a long time, before he finally pushes his own food away.

"Come with me," he says as he walks towards the door. When I don't stand up to follow him, he turns around to look at me.

"Please," he says, his voice soft but firm.

 **-BREAK-**

We're back in woods again, only this time we're in a different clearing- a _larger_ clearing. In the distance, I can hear the cars driving down a nearby road. The sun has long set, making way for the moon, which shines high above us.

Standing beside me, Loki looks over the clearing with a calculating expression. Just as I'm about to ask why we're waiting in the woods, he carefully raises his hand outwards and sweeps it slowly to the left and downwards towards the ground. As if some kind of cloaking spell was lifted (which it could very well have been), objects begin to materialise one by one across the field. Soon enough, the clearing isn't nearly as empty as two chairs, a table, a tent and a large metal container soon take up half of the space. With my eyebrows raised high, I nod by head appreciatively at the magic show.

"Look who's showing off," I say teasingly, looking to the side to smirk at Loki. Showing no reaction to my gentle teasing, he walks ahead to a clear patch of grass in the middle of the camp. Holding out one of his hands, he slowly lowers it, which somehow causes the grass to gradually sink away. With a flick of his wrist, the clear patch of ground is suddenly occupied by a small pile of wood, and with a loud snaps of his fingers, he steps back as the wood ignites into flame.

"Shit," I say appreciatively. "Remind me not to piss you off." Lifting his head, Loki smirks at me.

"Shana," he says, his tone patronizing. "You have already angered me enough in the past to send most heroes and kings fleeing in terror from my wrath." Hearing that, I laugh hard enough to snort.

"Yeah," I say once I've calmed down enough to speak. "Sorry about that, but you just make it too damn easy!" I don't know whether the tightening around his mouth is from disapproval or from suppressing a smile, but I'll just guess it to be the latter.

Walking towards the metal box, he pulls the lid open.

"What's in there?" I ask him as I make my way towards where he's standing. Turning around with what looks like a narrow rectangular cardboard box in his hands, he lifts it up for me to see it.

"I was under the impression that mortals frequently use these in their celebrations." Frowning, I step a little closer until I'm right in front of him, taking the box out of his hands. On the box is a very colourful picture that's set on a dark background. It looks kind of like sparks, though it's not that easy to tell in the darkness. Stepping a little bit away from Loki, I turn towards the fire, twisting the box to face the light. Seeing some brightly coloured writing, I read the words 'The Big Bang', decorated by what now obviously resembles-

"Fireworks," I say, now completely catching on. "Yeah, we use them now and again."

Taking the box from me, Loki calmly takes the fireworks out of the box, placing one on the ground as required.

"Are you sure you know how to do this?" I ask him anxiously, realising that he plans on lighting one this exact moment.

"Your confidence in me truly is overwhelming," Loki says sarcastically as he snaps his fingers, lighting the fuse.

"Well, you're the alien who's most probably never lit a Midgardian firework before," I remind him anxiously. He turns his head to the side to give me a mock glare, turning it back forwards just as the firework flies off.

"Nice," I say in awe as the firework explodes in the sky, bathing the night in bright, rich shades of blue and silver. Even though I don't see it, I feel Loki's eyes drift to my face, and continue staring at it.

"Do you like it?" Loki asks, with a strange emotion in his voice.

"Well, yeah," I say. "Obviously. All mere mortals love bright and shiny things, right?" From my side I hear him give a soft sigh of what sounds suspiciously like relief.

 _Was he..._ nervous... _?_

"Of course," he says softly, walking closer to me.

"Come, sit with me," he says as he gestures towards the chairs set to the side of the tent. "That was by no means the last of the fireworks."

I follow him to the chairs, making myself comfortable as I sit down and watch the show. Another firework is set off, only this time it was set into the ground and ignited by magic.

"Do you do _everything_ with magic?" I ask him. He turns away from the green explosion in the sky, his eyes eerily shining from the light.

"Wouldn't you, if you could?" he asks me in return. Frowning, I consider the question. I nod my head slowly.

"It would be pretty cool," I softly admit as we watch another firework fly off to the sky. "And pretty fucking convenient." The firework explodes into a mass of blue and sliver sparks like the first one- the bang like a gunshot.

"Wouldn't people know we're here?" I ask him; he turns to face me.

"What?" he asks me carefully.

"Those are some pretty big bangs," I answer, pointing towards where the firework had exploded. "I'm sure people will notice."

"Fear not, Shana," Loki says in confident reassurance. "Many mortals celebrate for many varied reasons. The odd firework being set off- even in the depths of the forest- shouldn't arouse too much suspicion. It could always be either children playing foolish games or adults celebrating an event."

"And if that's not the case?" I ask him. He's quiet for a moment, considering his answer. The fireworks pause for a moment as he thinks.

"Then I suppose I must fight."

I stare at him, not sure what to make of that answer. He's a Norse god- a _Viking_. Of course he'd want to fucking fight. The world must really be messed up for me to defend my captor now, though.

"Surely you have _some_ kind of defence set up?" I ask him. Perhaps I shouldn't ask it, though. It would most probably be something that involves death, mutilation, implosion and the erasing of existence for anyone who dares step foot near the cabin. But it's too late to back out of the question, now. And besides, I remain ever optimistic that he won't turn around and go stabbing people in the eye just because it seemed fun at the time.

"Of course I do," he says, sounding a little bit offended. "I have built an enchanted ward around this patch of the forest to deter all Midgardians. No one should come searching for us."

Somehow, that's a relief to hear. Leaning to the side slightly, I rest my head against Loki's shoulder as I stare up at the fireworks. Everything almost feels good and fine here in the woods, watching the sparks fly in the air. But not even magic can keep the fireworks flying. At some point halfway through the show, we'd moved from the chairs to sit by the fire and watch the last of the fireworks go off.

"Thank you," I say as I watch the shifting colours of the fire.

"For what?" he asks, acting oblivious. I turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow and a smile on my face.

"I know what you did, Loki, and why you did it. Thank you," I repeat honestly. "Though I have to say, I'm very curious on why you had all of this in the first place, as I clearly remember you telling me that you don't actually poof all of this out of thin air. You weren't bullshitting me, were you, Loki?" I ask him, allowing my voice to lower slightly at the end to get the threat across to him. A smile crosses his face, and I can clearly see what he's thinking: _'bless the darling mortal, trying to threaten a god.'_

"No, I didn't lie," he says, winding an arm around me as he turns back to look at the fire. "The tent was from when I first arrived at Midgard and was building my shelter. The fireworks were bought out of curiosity to see whether they bore much resemblance to the ones in Asgard." He halts in his explanation, watching as the fire cracks through a log.

"Do they?" I ask him, eager to learn more about this foreign place straight from the source. He turns back to look at me.

"No," he says. "Though they are similar, the ones in Asgard were far more extravagant and would set the sky alight with creatures of myth set in fire and embers. The colours would be so vibrant and varied, many of them have no name in any mortal tongue." He pauses in his speech, staring at me intently.

"But tonight is better than all of those nights in Asgard combined," he says, his hand moving to grip mine. "I had no father judging me; no brother outshining me and no image to live up to. I have grown to care very deeply for you, Shana," lifting his other hand, he places his palm on the side of my face. "Very much so."

This is the opportune moment to kiss. This is the moment in every film where the couple kisses, and it's not like it would be the first (and hopefully not the last) kiss between us. All I have to do is lean in and connect lips with him.

And so I carefully, gently lean forwards and tenderly kiss him. He opens his mouths, accepting me wholly and lovingly and we kiss under the moon...

Nah, that's total bullshit.

Falling forwards I crash our lips together with tooth shattering force.

"Fuck!" I exclaim, darting backwards and raising a hand protectively in front of my mouth. The taste of blood fills my mouth; though when I dab my finger around my mouth, it comes out clear. Loki laughs beside me, his body shaking with the laughter as he's obviously unaffected by my screw up.

"Allow me," he says, still chuckling slightly as he says it. Wrapping his fingers around my wrist, he lowers it from my mouth. Using his other hand, he cups my cheek gently.

"Are you ready?" he asks me in a whisper.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" I can feel his breath on my lips as he asks me.

"Fuck yeah."

"Really? Because I'm not fond of the taste of blood should you wound yourself aga-"

"Fuck you and kiss me, already," I interrupt him with my eyes narrowed to thin twin slits.

"As you wish, my lady," Loki murmurs sarcastically before finally leaning in to kiss me- just as I was about to retort sharply.

Hands are everywhere- in my hair, on my face, on my-

 _Wow._ My eyes blink open in shock as I pull away slightly to stare at him in surprise. He looks back at me, his mouth pulled up into a devilish smirk.

"Well..." I say, clearing my throat as I dig for something smart to say. "Huh." With a grin, he leans down to rest his mouth on the side of my throat.

"Huh." Mind... Blank... Dead... What...?

"Couldn't... er..." I roll my head to the side, going a little high on adrenaline. "Couldn't help but notice there's only one tent."

"You don't say," Loki says into my throat, before returning to his previous feast.

 _Huh..._

 **A/N: The Big Bang fireworks mentioned in this story are by no means related to The Big Bang fireworks that you can find on Google Images. All similarities are coincidental- I called them that because it sounded like a cool name for fireworks rather than some mess of words like 'The Scorching Scorpion'... that most probably is actually a thing... and actually sounds kind of cool... Alliteration FTW!**


	17. The Why and the How

**A/N: Mwahahaha! You guys were hoping to read some sex, weren'tcha? Well, sorry, but I've got a rating to live up to (and last time I checked, it WASN'T 'M'). In other news, sorry that it's another chapter that's a day late, I've been a little on the busy side lately.**

 **For one review a day, you can help inspire a struggling, tired author who's occasionally going through writer's block. Please, save the writers, people! XD**

 ***EDIT: I have now changed the rating to 'M'...**

 **Chapter 17**

 **The Why and the** **How**

Content, I sigh blissfully as I stretch. Camping has never been so _fun!_

Squinting slightly, I look towards the entrance of the tent, where the morning rays of light just poke through. Loki had gone out about half an hour ago to get the fire started and work on getting breakfast ready. I smile in contentment as I hear movement outside.

 _Maybe I should get up, now?..._

 _Nah! Another few minutes!_

Grinning widely, I snuggle deeper into the warm and comfortable blankets, ignoring the neatly folded clothes lying near the front flap of the tent. It's _way_ too fucking cold out there for me to even _consider_ leaving the warmth of the tent. It's so warm, in fact, I'm sure he used some magic to make it this cosy.

The zip to the flap loudly announces a new arrival to the tent. Loki peers his head in, raising his eyebrow when he finds me in the exact same place he left me in.

"Shana," he says sternly. "You are coming dangerously close to being titled the Goddess of the Lazy."

"Aw, shucks," I wave my hand half heartedly. "You really know how to get a lady blushing." Loki's eyes widen slightly as his cheeks redden. He gives a weak cough while I grin at his reaction.

"Not quite what I meant, you old pervert, but yeah," I throw him a cheeky wink. "That also."

Clearing his throat, Loki says, "The meal will be ready soon. You should get up and dressed as soon as you can."

"You could always just... give me the food... in here... in bed..." Tilting my head to the side, I smile at him flirtatiously and batter my eyelashes at him. He gives an innocent smile in return.

"Either you leave the tent, or you do not eat at all." Threat received and acknowledged, I sigh.

"Fine, spoil sport." Abandoning the blankets, I stand up clothed with nothing but the air. His eyes widening again slightly, Loki's eyes start frantically moving over me, pausing every now and again in the same places.

"Chuck me my clothes, sweetheart," I order, holding my hand out to receive them. With a smug smirk on his face, Loki grabs my clothes and enters the tent to pass them to me.

"It bereaves me to watch you cover yourself," he says mournfully as I accept the clothes.

"Don't worry, love," I say with a mischievous smile. "I promise you that you won't be feeling that way for much longer." His eyebrow twitches as his smirk returns with appreciation.

"You know, Loki," I say as slip my underwear on. Loki hums in blank acknowledgement. "You're a very confusing sort of bloke. You brag about the many girlfriends and one night stands you've had, but blush when I so much as accidentally reference last night?"

"Yes, but I assure you that never has any of my partners been quite as... _blunt_ as you." I pause getting dressed in favour of looking at him in disbelief.

"Really? No one?" Loki looks thoughtful for a moment.

"No one aside from the Elven Sisters of Qualora- they truly knew no shame."

"Do tell," I say with a cheeky smirk.

"I would," he says slowly. "But a gentleman does not impart upon his lover the tales of previous people with whom he has bed." My eyebrow twitches at this.

"Gentleman, you say?" I ask him with a smirk as I carefully walk up to him, my T-shirt, jeans and trainers still lying abandoned on the floor. "Well, you're lady's hungry. She got out of bed for food you'd promised her," I pout at him playfully. "Food that... smells like it might be burning." His eyes widen slightly in realisation. He quickly slips out through the flap of the tent.

With a rushed, "Excuse me!" he gone.

Gentleman my arse, leaving food to burn so he could oggle my body (flattering though it may be). Though I have to say, I appreciate the gesture. After all, I'd rather not hear tale after tale of just how sexy the Elves are; how delectably nimble the Vanir can be or how much of a rare delicacy the Frost Giant maidens are said to be, and how there was once a time when Loki 'wouldn't have minded a bite.' All of this is just _perfect_ for my self-confidence.

Outside, I can hear the clatter of pans and soft cursing, followed by muttered words in a foreign language I _still_ haven't gotten round to learning yet.

Loki's head pops back through into the tent and gives me an exasperated look.

"Half of your clothing is still lying on the ground," he points out drily. "Not that I am complaining, of course. If you wish to eat in your underwear, then by all means, do so. I am certainly not one to stop a lady from doing as she wishes." Rolling my eyes, I give him the world's most fake laugh.

"Hahaha, right. Well, you can go shag a tree or something." Picking up my clothes, I slip them on. "I might act like some kind of savage, but even I don't go _that_ far."

"You should take care with your words," he says warningly. "That would be offensive to many inhabitants of the realms who prefer to wear nothing."

"Yeah, just like how the term 'mortal' would be offensive to some people here on Earth because they like to think of themselves as God-like beings?" I retort sarcastically. "Seriously, _anything_ can be offensive. I just tend to roll with it and speak my mind, darling."

With a disapproving frown (the silvertongue within him must be slowly dying of frustration at hearing my viewpoint- how can you win people over with such a total disregard for other peoples' feelings?) he slips back out of the tent to let me dress in peace.

Once I'm done getting dressed, I head out of the tent to see food being dished up.

"Not bad," I hum, seeing the array of meats and salad. "Glad to see it didn't burn."

"But it did burn," Loki says matter of factly. I look up at him with a raised eyebrow- both wondering why he bothered to point it out, and why the proud god who can do nothing wrong actively admits to letting the food burn.

"But not only had I managed to save it using Seidr, but I also managed to improve on the meal quite spectacularly." Of course he owned up to burning the food just so he could brag about his mad magic skillz. Rolling my eyes, I sit down next to the man, accepting the plate off of him and following his gesture to start digging in at the buffet-style selection of meat, fruit and salad.

"Of course your magic not only saved the meal but accidentally made it the embodiment of edible love," I say as I take my first bite of the perfectly cooked ham.

"I had never said anything of it being accidental," Loki says as he cuts into what looks like steak. "It was very much deliberate."

"Of course it was," I tease fondly. I have to say, though, that despite previously being distracted into burning the food, he actually did a damn good job at making it.

For a while, all that can be heard is the scraping of cutlery against ceramic as we enjoy the meal. The wind rustles the leaves, causing a sharp and sudden chill to invade the clearing. I shiver in my shirt and jeans, not nearly prepared for the cold chill.

"If I may?" Loki says from beside me. With a wave of his hand, the chill is replaced by warmth and I sigh in appreciation.

"Thanks," I say gratefully, smiling up at him. "Though... do you _have_ to do those little hand motions?" He frowns in confusion.

"I fail to see how it matters," he answers, looking at me like I'm a mad woman.

"You know, the hand gestures you make when you do magic. I doubt it's like in Harry Potter where every spell has a specific wand movement and certain phrase to go with it, and one wrong move could leave you with the head of an ass and the body of a bitch," I explain. Staring at me for a moment (most probably trying to gauge whether it's even worth his bother answering the question), he finally answers.

"No, it is not required, but it helps me focus on the way I intend to shape my Seidr." I suppose it kind of makes sense.

"Kind of like an artist looking at pictures for inspiration, then?" I ask him. He chuckles at my attempt to make sense out of it.

"Not in the slightest, but it may be the closest you might come to understanding it," he dismisses. We return to the meal, but I can't help returning to the topic of magic in my mind. At first it's just thoughts of how awesome magic can be, and how brilliant it would be if I could do magic. But then my mind backtracks to one particular moment of magic- something that lead to me being here, right now. The moment I arrived. The moment that _Loki_ had arrived. But this only manages to feed my curious brain further with unanswered questions.

How did Loki originally get here? No one has asked or attempted to answer that question- no journalists, scientists, and certainly not the Avengers. From what Loki has slowly told me throughout the couple of months I've been here, his Dad certainly hadn't played a roll in him coming down to Earth, as his entire family had thought he'd died. From what I can gather, it sounds like he'd also been trapped whilst falling from the 'Bifrost'- the bridge between realms, making it difficult for him to have travelled such a long distance.

So... how did he get here? Our better yet: _why_ here?

"Why did you invade Earth?" I ask him, choosing to start with the more fun question first. Loki pauses in his eating (I'm surprised he's still doing it; I stopped eating about halfway through my musing) and turns bemused eyes on me. The confusion soon bleeds away, however, and is replaced with a look of understanding. Us mortals are, after all, still an inferior race compared to the super powered Asgardians. Why bother with us?

"When I fell into the void between realms, there was no escape," Loki begins explaining, his gaze turning sharp as he talks. "A distant world had welcomed me into it's cold, uncaring arms. It was a small rock of a realm; verging on lifeless and inhabited by the cast offs of the realms. Upon his throne in this realm sat a beast of a man- if he could be called as such." He pauses in his explanation; his eyes grow ever more distant and drift over my shoulder as he recalls the events that led to his failed invasion.

"He spoke such sense at the time," Loki continues saying. "He told me that Midgard was the way to break my father's hold on me- that they would know to _fear_ my name after conquering this world." A mad glint seems to enter his eyes as he says this. It vanishes as he turns to look into my own eyes.

"I could feel him break into my mind," he says in a soft monotone. "Warp my magic and sanity to go alongside his desires. Even now, I know not whether it was me who wished to see this world break apart and crumble to mere dust, or if it were him."

He falls into silence as he stares at me intently. As the moments stretch on, I realise that not only does it seem like he's now stopped talking, but he's also waiting for my reaction.

"Okay," I slowly say, trying to gain some time to get my thoughts in order. "So you were brainwashed? Because if you were, then you can't be blamed for any of it, right?" I ask him more than tell him. For all the bad things he did during his invasion (as well as the way he had acted while invading) I'm not entirely sure if everyone would feel the same way that I do about the whole situation.

The silence stretches on for a while longer- long enough that I begin to wonder if he's going to answer at all. Finally, he opens his mouth to speak.

"The All-Father might excuse me for the invasion due to me not being of a healthy mind. However, he would still need to punish me for the attack on Jotunnheim and my acts of treason prior to the Midgardian attack," he informs me, his voice softening from the monotone it had taken on during his reminiscing.

"That is why I cannot make my presence here known. Regardless of whether or not I am responsible for my actions against your Realm, I will be punished for my previous crimes," he pauses in his explanation, a pained grimace crossing over his handsome features. "The punishment would undoubtedly be as harsh as the aforementioned crimes... which would most probably make it my execution," he finishes almost silently. I stare at him in shock, the words floating weightlessly through my brain.

A world without Loki? I don't give a shit whether he's my captor, my friend, my lover, or just some wicked super villain who might be having me on. I can't think of a world without him. Who would roll their eyes at my immaturity the way he does? Who would make me free delicious meat everyday simply because they can't stand steak made rare, or chicken made with an extra side helping of salmonella? Who would walk around, acting like a posh prick just begging to be made fun of... and _not_ try to kill me?

Sure, a lot of people might be able to fill those roles easily enough... but not the way he does, I'm sure.

"Don't worry, Loki, darling," I can't help but say dramatically as I lean my head against his shoulder. "I won't let those fuckers take you." I feel him shift from under my head.

"Are you _ever_ serious for long?" he asks me, sounding unimpressed.

"Of course," I say in response. "I just hate tense moments like this where all we talk about is death. It's good to lighten up the mood a little bit every now and again." Loki is still and silent after I give my answer. We both stare into the still burning fire, with Loki's plate (still half filled with his third helping of food) left abandoned to the side.

 **A/N: I wasn't too sure about the scene where Loki blushes at Shana's accidental implication of the night before, but my writer's instincts told me to leave it in as it's perfectly fine, so... hope you guys enjoyed it, regardless!**


	18. Goodbye, Loki

**A/N: MWAHAHAHA! 'Tis I! The greatest villain of them all: The Author! And I bestow upon you the fruits of my labours, a plan that has taken me YEARS to perfect!**

 **... And I'm going to leave you staring at it in horror and dread as I sod off for a few weeks to grammatically update my previous chapters, lest one of my devoted sidekicks- sosaveme- starts feeling like all their hard work was for naught...**

 **Until then, I leave you guys with this chapter! Enjoy it (if you can)!**

 **Mwahahahahahahahaaaaaaa!**

 **Chapter 18**

 **Goodbye, Loki**

Loki quickly makes short work of packing away the camping equipment. With just a wave of his hand, the little patch of forest we're in is clear once again.

"So, back to the cabin?" I ask him as I start walking forwards to the edge of the clearing. With a chuckle, he grabs hold of my shoulders and turns me around almost 180 degrees.

"Yes, we are going to the cabin," he says into my ear. "But that is not the way to the cabin."

"Oh," I say, my body buzzing slightly from the close proximity. "Well, how the fuck would I have possibly known?" I frown, glaring at the trees that all look very much the same.

"My dearest Shana," Loki says in a mock-mournful tone. "You would not do well in the other realms _at all!"_

"Yeah, well, from what you've been telling me, that's an understatement," I answer honestly as he leads me through the trees. "Though... there _is_ one question I still want answered."

"You may ask, just be aware that I might not answer," he says a little distractedly. Most probably thinking of all the things he really would much rather I didn't decide to talk with him about.

"What's with all the human stuff if you came here around about when I did?" I ask him. It's a little suspicious that Loki hadn't been here long at all, yet had just enough time to buy so much stuff. After all, he can only summon so many things from home before people start wondering where half of Asgard went.

"Evidently, I bought the items I couldn't summon either during my last stay in Midgard, or during some small opportunities over the last couple of months," he answers.

"Fair enough," I say with a slow nod of acceptance. "Does that include all the camping stuff and fireworks? Because it kind of seemed spur of the moment..." No way is he _that_ good at planning ahead! He gives a simple shrug at my question.

"I had been curious at the effectiveness of your fireworks. As for the camping equipment, I already owned all of it in preparation of a longer stay and a harder invasion," he gives me a smirk- obviously thinking that he's outsmarted me while making it known that he's the biggest, smartest fish in this sea.

"But we still kicked your arse," I say with a nod, not taking 'no' for an answer. He glares ahead as we walk through the trees.

 _Obviously still a sore subject..._

We reach the cabin with little more discussion- mostly because Loki's still a bit disappointed about the humiliation that was his defeat. Whether he was totally with it during the invasion or not, it was still Loki who lost to a team of costumed mortals (even if they were super powered). It stings a little, I'm sure.

Flopping down on the couch, I stare blankly up at the ceiling, wondering when my life got so warped.

Wow... I sound like some kind of teenage goth who's just found out they're gay. But I just can't quite get my head around how much everything has changed.

Not that long ago (still barely a couple of months ago, in fact), I was reluctantly studying science, in regular contact with my friends and family while I blindly found my way around life with both hands spread out in front of me to help guide my way.

Now, I haven't got my family, I haven't got the science course, but I _do_ have the heart (I assume) of a royal, magical, alien Viking god and one Hell of a possible future biography.

Well... it's actually a lie that I wonder when it all got so fucked up. It all happened when the night was its darkest.

It's also a lie that I think it's all fucked up. I wanted an unorthodox life, and I got one.

Who would have ever thought that _this_ would have happened?

"Are you contemplating your life again, Shana?" Loki asks, standing near my head. I peer up at him in suspicion.

"And how the fuck did you know I was thinking about _that?_ " I ask him curiously.

"You are easier to read than you think," Loki answers as he moves my feet to sit with me on the couch, before gently placing them on his lap.

I roll my eyes at him. _I'm not_ that _easy to read,_ I think sulkily.

"Am I wrong in thinking that you are making a point to argue against me inside your mind at this moment?" he asks me with a smug brow raised.

"Well, yes, but that ought to be a no brainer by now," I excuse.

"Or that you spend much of your time considering yourself unworthy of me?"

"Yeah, but... not like that. You kind of make me sound like some sort of shallow fangirl, you know?"

"And what of your curiosity with magic? Your desire to learn about foreign cultures? The sarcastic commentary that most surely must be running within your mind as well as from your lips?"

"Fuck, mate!" I gasp dramatically when he pauses for breath. "Can you read minds or something?"

"No," he says with a smirk. "You are just easy to read. But fear not," he leans forwards as his tone drops to a conspiratorial pur. "I am a master at reading people, and you have no qualms with showing your every emotion for all to see."

"What can I say?" I ask with a shrug. "I'm a very emotional kind of girl." A genuine smile crosses his face.

"Indeed," he says, brushing a hand through my hair. "Very much s-"

 **Crash!**

With a startled jump, I whip my legs off of Loki's lap, spinning in my seat to face the source of the noise.

A draft enters the room through the empty door frame- the door that once filled it now lying uselessly on the floor.

In the doorway stands a large, hulking silhouette. Clad in full battle armour, the brute of a man steps in, his eyes quickly scanning the place that once was a sanctuary. My heart sinks a little as I realise what this means.

"Loki," the man says in a deep growl, his eyes shooting towards where Loki sits ridged on the couch.

"How did you find me?" Loki asks, his voice softened by shock.

"The fireworks," Thor (how could I not recognise him when his picture is _everywhere?_ ) says. "Heimdall had noticed unusual activity in this area. The mortals of S.H.I.E.L.D had been trying to gain access to this forest, but to no success. Correctly assuming that it must be a magical attack on Midgard- most probably of your doing- Heimdall had sent me to a nearby clearing to investigate." He stands there, staring down at Loki and looking like an immovable boulder. There would be no reasoning with this man.

"Why, brother?" He finally asks, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two men. "Why cause so much grief? Our parents taught us to be good, noble men!" Thor steps into the cabin as he tries to reason with Loki. I cringe at his choice of words, thinking back to all the times when Loki had whinged about the evils of his father- the man who had lied to him for centuries.

"They are not my parents," Loki says darkly. "That man _lied_ to me. He lied to us _both_. He told us tales of the dreaded Frost Giants; of creatures who were nothing more than beasts that deserved to be put down," standing up, he turns to face Thor fully.

"You wanted them destroyed as much as I did," Loki says softly, the old madness beginning to worm its way back into his eyes.

 _Thor shouldn't be here,_ I think as I watch events unfold in front of me. _He's making Loki riled up._

"I did not wish to kill an entire realm, though, brother!" Thor shouts as emotions start to run high.

"That is not what you said!" Loki hisses at him spitefully. "You had said many times that you wished for their deaths. That the realms would surely not miss such foul monsters- a race of beasts that I am a part of!" Loki rants, his face contorting in his mad rage. Thor opens his mouth to speak.

"No!" Loki shouts before Thor can speak. "Can you truly not see? Are you so blind? They had _lied_ to us both! I am nothing but a monster as the All-father has always said. So chain me up! Imprison me! Put me down if you must-"

"Brother, please," Thor interrupts pleadingly.

"Like the dog I am!" Loki yells at the top of lungs. The tension in the room is thick enough to suffocate. I look between the two gods, both so different from each other. They have their similarities, but only as much as any two royal princes from the same land might have.

"Loki," Thor says softly. "Father will not kill you."

"So you believe," Loki scoffs, turning to sit stiffly on the couch once more.

"It is the truth," Thor insists. "I speak nothing but the truth to you, Loki."

"I killed thousands, Thor," Loki says softly. "Maybe even millions. Not even a loving father- if he is such- could forgive such crimes." Another tense silence between brothers; Loki's head held high and his expression one of stubborn denial.

I don't dare speak up. Not even I am dumb enough to attempt to break through this harsh atmosphere and cheer things up a little. Not when these two gods look like they're one bad word away from killing someone (never mind each other).

"You," Thor suddenly says, his eyes trained on me. I look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something else along with 'you'. For a moment, he just stares at me with intense confusion, before he finally speaks. "Why are you here?" And so the spotlight shines on me, and all reasonable thought flees my mind. I raise an unimpressed eyebrow at the man who's most probably about to take Loki to his death.

"First of all," I say, my tone dry. "That was rude. Seriously, mate; even your brother has better manners than you and he's a fucking serial killer!" Turns out I'm really shit in tense situations. Who'da thunk?

"Secondly, I'm here because your serial killer brother saw me and thought he just _had_ to have me. As he didn't have any parents around at the time to warn him about the dangers of picking up random strays off the street, here I am." Thor frowns at me, looking even more confused than before at my reaction.

"Loki imprisoned you?" Thor asks for verification.

"Well... that depends," I say cautiously. "Would it affect his sentence?" I don't want to be the cause of Loki being killed, just because he was 'evil' enough to kidnap a human for long period of time. It wasn't even that long in Asgardian standards! And as far as kidnappers go, Loki was actually pretty accommodating, all things considered...

"No," Thor says. "It should not, unless he had forced himself upon you; harmed you without provocation or mistreated you during captivity." Well that's mighty fine and surprising of them. For some reason, I wouldn't have thought that these medieval brutes had human rights...

"Do you have those little rules set for all prisoners?" I ask him so I could satiate my curiosity, and stall for more time. Who knows? It might help Loki form an escape plan.

 _Why hasn't he teleported away, yet?_ I wonder anxiously. After all, shouldn't he be able to apparate at least in short distances? Or is it only Harry Potter and his merry men that can do that?

"Most prisoners do not get the privileges of freedom," Thor admits. "But if you were captured without reason and in weakened state, then the Asgardian High Council will be inclined to grant you a boon." I nod my head slowly in understanding. Well, Loki definitely didn't force himself on me; he only accidentally hurt me once or twice and he treated me well enough, even in the early days of my 'captivity'. Shit... Thor using the word 'captivity' makes me sound like some kind of zoo enclosure.

"Well, he didn't hurt me or rape me, or else I'd screaming for blood at this very second," I tell him. Loki is still watching Thor, but doesn't seem to actually be seeing him.

"Then he wouldn't be punished for your imprisonment, should that be the reason why you are here." I'll give him one thing: at least he's trying to make a point of not jumping to conclusions.

"Were you imprisoned by my brother?" Thor asks carefully. I hesitate, as I don't know these people- this guy especially. What if he's trying to trick me into saying or doing something that could have his brother caught and killed? Sure, Loki said that he barely has two brain cells to rub together, but what is the Asgardian version of idiocy, when they come from an apparently super high-tech immortal civilization who are thousands of years ahead of us?

"Yes?" I say, drawing the word out slowly and uncertainly. If I don't answer honestly after all, then Thor might start jumping to the right conclusion (that Loki and I are 'together') and start questioning how I even got here.

Thor nods his head solemnly. "Stand, Loki," he orders, as he brings forth a couple of shiny metal bracelets inscribed with runes from one of his pockets. "We need not make this any more difficult than it has to be."

Slowly, Loki stands from the couch and walks towards Thor. I wait for him to do something. _Anything._

He raises his hands to Thor- palms facing skyward.

"I would not dream of fighting," he says, his body rigid. With a cautious eye on Loki, Thor snaps the bracelets on his slender wrists.

"That's it?" I ask as I finally realise that Loki really _isn't_ planning on running anywhere. "Loki, what about those things you said this morning? Are you really going to let them do this?" For all that I might appear, I'm not some heartless bitch. Loki said that these arse holes will kill him, and yet he's literally just offering himself to them!

"Shana-" Loki says, but an idea quickly worms its way inside my mind.

"Oh..." I say with a nod of my head. Loki would never _willingly_ give himself up like this, surely? He's too proud! "I get it."

"Shana," he says, much quieter now as his eyes fix themselves to the floor.

"Because, they can't _really_ imprison you, can they?" I ask him, because surely they can't? Not Loki- the man who could get out of Hell itself if he had to!

He lifts his eyes from the floor to look at me. They're all wrong. There's no mischief in them; only what looks like defeat.

"Shana," he says once more, with his eyes boring into mine. "I must go with him." The silence returns to the cabin once more. There's nothing for me to say, for what _is_ there to say to that? I know that my eyes- which I know Loki is staring into- say everything for me.

 _Why?_

"In all honesty," Loki says; a self-mocking smile on his face, "I had not planned for this. In my arrogance, I had thought that the barrier surrounding the cabin would be enough. I had not wanted to waste what little Seidr I had remaining after transporting myself to this realm on unneeded wards, barriers and traps. I suppose I am more your brother than I had previously thought," Loki says, turning his eyes on Thor for the last comment. Thor, meanwhile, looks stuck between looking disappointed at Loki, happy at being called 'brother' again, and upset in the manner it was used. Overall, he just looks confused.

Loki returns his sad gaze back to me. "This would most probably be the last that we will see of each other," he says softly.

"I will undoubtedly either be executed, exiled or imprisoned until long after you have died." I don't know whether those are tears in his eyes, or just the light catching them in just the right way. Emotions swirl around inside of me, reaching a swirling crescendo.

"Fine." I say in a snarling hiss. Loki's head shoots up in hurt shock, but my eyes aren't focused on him.

"Fine. You want to take him and imprison him for ever and ever, then go and _fucking do it!_ " I scream tears starting to trail down my cheeks. "I'm only a _mortal_ , after all. Blink and you miss me, how can my feelings mean _anything_ at all, when I'll most probably find someone else in the next couple or so years- just a _second_ to you! Why care about _me?!_ " I shout at both Thor and Loki; Thor for taking away the man I hadn't even gotten around to professing my love to, and Loki for making me care. Loki stares at me in shock, seemingly not knowing what to do. His hands are literally tied, so a kiss and a hug won't make this at all better.

Instead, it's Thor who walks up to me; it's Thor who rests his large hands on my upper arms and it's Thor who says the next words in his deep voice befitting of the God of Thunder.

"Do not ask such questions," he says in a surprisingly gentle voice. "I know not what occurred between you and Loki; but I do know that there must be much to care about, for him to have chosen you as he evidently has done." He smiles down at me; his surprisingly kind eyes crinkling at the edges.

"I sincerely apologise for the trouble this must have caused for you, and I will make it so you can see Loki as often as possible." More tears leak out of my eyes, accumulating under my chin. Raising a shaking hand, I wipe the tears away as best as I can, and give him an unsteady smile.

 _At least he'll make sure Loki lives, if nothing else._

"Now, say farewell, brother," Thor says as he releases me to return to his previous spot beside Loki.

Loki stands still for a moment, staring at me longingly. There won't be a goodbye hug from him. Not with those bangles that obviously work as some kind of force field/prison chain/doohickey. Taking the initiative, I walk towards him.

 _There's no fucking way I'm letting him go without saying a proper goodbye!_

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I kiss him gently on the lips.

"Goodbye, Loki," I whisper against his lips. Moving my head, I rest it on his shoulder as I hold him tightly.

 _I'll see him soon..._

 _I'll see him soon..._

 _I'll see him soon..._

"We must leave, now," Thor says, his deep voice effectively breaking the silence. I would ask, but I know why he does this- keeping Loki chained and rushing our goodbyes. Loki has most probably already escaped punishment a thousand times in his long and colourful life. Any second longer, and he might do it again.

 _And boo-fucking-hoo if that were to happen._

Stubborn and rebellious, I hold on for a minute longer; giving him a long and final kiss on the lips.

"Farewell, Shana," he says as we break apart.


	19. Home Again

**A/N: So... erm...**

 **Well... This is awkward...**

 **Well, a few months later and I've updated the story, just like I've promised. It might of taken just a smidge longer than promised, but I did it! The schedule will now return to how it used to be- weekly, roughly on a Saturday.**

 **I would just like to also add that I still haven't read the comics, and I've decided to pretty much keep the relationships to the Marvel cinematic universe's portrayal. I can't pr** **omise that all the events will happen in the same timeline, or whether they would happen at all. Basically, the second Loki magically and conveniently escaped from prison, he's been living in a alternate universe.**

 **That being said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and don't hate me too much, and have a happy new year.** **: )**

 **Chapter 19**  
 **Home Again**

Silence pierces through the car as a team of agents drive me back home. After two months of no rent and my obvious kidnapping, the landlord has long since given my room away to another tenant. Not that I blame him- we've all got to make a living.  
"You must be very excited," the American agent- the only American on the team- says softly from beside me. "I can't imagine how stressful this situation must have been for you."  
Of course, it's all just a load of bullshit. He doesn't care. All _he_ cares about is that Loki's finally behind bars again, where he can't hurt anybody for a _long_ time.  
And _of course_ he can imagine the 'stress' I've been through- he's a fucking government super spy! Don't they do this sort of shit daily?  
I keep my mouth shut tight as I steadily glare out of the window.  
"You're a quiet one, aren't you?" the American (what's his name again? Agent Carlson?) says with a hint of amusement in his voice.  
Loki would have disagreed. Loki would have scoffed at the mere thought of me being described as 'quiet'.  
But Loki isn't here.  
The silence stretches on for a moment longer as the large black car we are seated in cruises smoothly down the road. With my old rented room now gone, these agents are taking me back to my old place of lodging, the place that once was my one true home.  
Had this day come a little over a month ago, I would have been babbling ceaselessly with my excitement. But a lot has happened since those days.  
"Your family has missed you a lot," Agent Carlson says. I watch as his reflection in the window smiles warmly at me. I turn my eyes back to those of my blank-faced reflection.  
"I'd imagine they'd be very glad to see you relatively safe and unharmed."  
Relatively. It must be the light sheen of scarring he's referring to. I don't really notice them any more.  
"Don't you miss them?" he continues on, ignoring my pointed silence. "Your family? Your friends?"  
Of course I miss them.  
But I also miss a man- one with mischievous green eyes and a sharp, witty tongue.  
I watched him leave; Thor hadn't wanted to risk giving Loki too much opportunity to escape, so he took Loki away with a swish of his hammer to fuck knows where. I don't know why he didn't use that rainbow bridge thing, as I've heard from both Loki and the book that it's their preferred mode of transport. Maybe there's traffic jam?  
I smirk at my reflection as I picture several dozen of those bastards, all rammed together and shouting angrily at each other whilst standing on a multicoloured stone bridge up in Fairyland (or wherever the fuck they live).  
"What's so funny?" Agent Nosey says with smile in his voice.  
"Go fuck yourself."  
"So she speaks," the cheeky bastard says proudly, completely ignoring what I just said. I scowl wordlessly at my reflection. It scowls back in understanding.  
"You remind me of a young wolf cub I once knew," the strange agent says in reminisce. "He never made a sound and avoided absolutely everyone, until finally he-"  
"Just give it up, Agent Coulson," the man in the front passenger seat tiredly interrupts. "She's obviously an ungrateful bitch, or she would've said thanks by now."  
"That may be," the American says calmly, but with a slight edge of steel in his voice. "But she's a young woman who has been through an extremely traumatising ordeal, doing what very few agents managed to do during Loki's last vacation on Earth."  
"What's that?" the dick up front asks, not sounding at all impressed.  
"She survived," the agent sitting next to me patiently replies.  
He thinks he has it all realised. He thinks that I'm the damsel who's been saved, and Loki was- and would never be anything more than- a fire breathing monster of a man.  
Well, he's wrong about it all. Loki was never a monster towards me, not even at the beginning. He never hit or intentionally hurt me. The worst he did was threaten to kill me during my bitchiest moments, and prevent me from seeing my friends and family.  
Sure, he made for a world class dickhead (I stand by that opinion, even now), but definitely not a monster.  
My heart aches a little as I think back to that moment when Thor flew off, with one hand tightly gripping hold of Loki whilst the other sent him soaring off with his hammer.  
... Maybe he'll escape again? He's done it once; surely he could do it again?  
Damn it. I hope I'm not throwing all my hopes and dreams towards a fantasy that'll never happen.  
On the one hand, he's the God of Lies. He could very well have lied to Thor to make him _th_ _ink_ that he's turning himself in, just so he could plan for an escape later on. He just couldn't have told me of his plan, as I might have given the entire game away. I've seen just as many films as anyone else; I know how it works.  
But what if it was genuine? What if he really was turning himself in? He _had_ said that he'd never lie to me.  
 _Why did I have to fall for Loki?_  
"We're here," the American calmly informs me, successfully breaking me from my thoughts. I hadn't even noticed that the car stopped moving...  
Getting out of the vehicle, I stop to stare at the building in front of me. I honestly didn't think I'd ever see it again. Mixed feelings begin to swarm inside of me: excitement to be back again; happiness to finally see my family again; sadness that it came at the cost of Loki; anger at the agents that were only doing their jobs. The feelings only escalate to a roaring crescendo as the front door opens.  
Mom stands at the doorway, with Ben and Alex just behind her. I just stand there and stare at her for several long moments, not knowing what to do or if this is even real.  
"Shana?" Mom breaks the silence to ask, her voice shaking with loosely restrained emotion. That's all it takes.  
I launch myself towards my Mom and tightly wrap my arms around her. I press my face into the soft material of her blueish-grey knitted jumper and breathe in the scent of her flower perfume.  
I feel one of her hands lightly stroking through my hair as I clutch on even tighter. My body spasms as a loud sob escapes me- not nearly muffled enough by her jumper, while tears steadily dampens the material. I hear her soft hushing and whispering from beside my head as she grips me just as tightly.  
"You're home, sweetheart," I hear her say softly. "I don't know what the bastard did to you, but you're safe and home, now." That only makes me cry harder.  
They wouldn't ever understand. How can they? One way or another, everyone has heard of Loki, and these days he's just about got the same reputation as Hitler.  
Of course, I never intended to tell them what _really_ happened in the cabin. Now, I feel even less inclined to do so.  
Only me, Thor and Loki will know, because I just can't stand to picture the looks on everyone's faces when they find out that a personal victim of Loki's could ever bother to see the man he actually is.  
 _It wasn't this complicated back in the_ _cabin,_ my traitorous mind supplies as I drag in a loud, sobbing breath.  
 _I'm really starting to miss that cabin._  
Why couldn't I have had the cabin _and_ my family?  
Well... Yeah, that's a stupid question as I would have hated Loki even more if he'd gone and kidnapped my entire family- and our relationship would have most probably been a little more awkward. But still...  
In some alternative universe way out there, I'm sure there's a version of me who has it all and without the drama. Maybe she's unhappy? Maybe she's grown bored or annoyed with her Loki? Either way, I really wouldn't mind playing body swap with her, so I could hug my Mom and kiss Loki without feeling any fear or regret.  
But as they say, all good things must come to an end. Even the ones that come a little bit tainted.  
"Are you feeling better, sweetheart?" My Mom asks softly as she comfortingly rubs my back.  
 _No._  
"Yeah," I croak with a weak smile.  
I'd hate to sound melodramatic, but I feel like I'll never feel better again.  
"Is it my turn for a hug?" Before I get chance to reply, I have my arms full of Lexie. He grips hold of me tightly, almost crushing my ribs with the force of the hug. His face is buried in my shoulder with enough force to bruise as he starts making loud noises. I honestly can't tell whether he's laughing or crying, but Lexie never cries.  
"Err, hey. I'm here, now," I say softly as I slightly pat him on the shoulder. He slowly looks up at me with eyes red from tears and a big grin on his face.  
"Yeah, you are," he says, finally stepping back slightly and dipping his head down slightly in embarrassment. "But seriously, Shana! It was two fucking months!"  
"Alex," Ben scolds halfheartedly, still in the doorway. Lexie doesn't seem to notice the reprimand.  
"At first, we just thought you were being quiet, but then you didn't sign onto Minefield: Battle Ground on Friday like you always do. We left it a little bit before going round to your place, which was when the landlord said you haven't been paying your bills; and then these government official types turned up and said that they reckoned _Loki_ had taken you, and that they were going to go storm his hide-out!" Lexie quickly says, before finally pausing for breath.  
"Wait, how did they know he took me?" I quickly ask, just as Lexie begins to continue his rushed rant. He pauses and looks towards the agents in confusion.  
"Some of the locals had noticed a rather strange phenomenon happening on the night of Miss White-Friar's disappearance. As there hadn't been any other kidnappings in the area during that time -and considering that that was when we were informed of Loki's escape- it wasn't too hard to figure out," Agent Dickhead from earlier says kind of smugly from where he stands a few feet away next to the car. I send him my deadliest glare, which he remains stoic to.  
Lexie nods his head in understanding.  
"Yeah, that," he says, pointing towards the agent. "When they said that Loki had you, we all thought you'd been tortured or killed! We were all _terri_ _fie_ _d!"_ Mom chokes on a sob and Ben clears his throat, both of them staring at me in worry and concern.  
"But then they told us that you were alright and that they're bringing you home. We just... I just kinda..." Lexie's voice trails off as his bottom lips starts to tremble viciously. Jamming his fist to his mouth with nearly enough force to punch a tooth out, he tightly shuts his eyes while he wills away the tears that are obviously fighting to get out.  
"Don't worry, Alex," Ben says as he finally steps away from the doorway and covers the few steps between us, until he's standing next to Lexie.  
"We all missed you, Shana," Ben says, with his own suspicious shine coating his eyes. "I might not be your Dad- I might never even be _consid_ _ered_ your father. But you've become my daughter," he grimaces as a couple of tears escape his eyes and leak into his heavy stubble (he's normally clean shaven...).  
"It half killed me, thinking that I'd never get to tell you that." More tears start to trickle down his cheeks to gather in his beard as he raises a hand to rub at his eyes.  
Oh _shit._ Ben was never the emotional type. He's worse than my brother when it comes to showing emotions, so for him to be on the verge of a breakdown like this...  
Stepping close to him, I wrap him in a hug. This one isn't nearly as back breaking as the one with Lexie, or as protective as the one with Mom. However, his hesitant hug back says it all.  
He's glad to see me, and the hug definitely makes things better.


	20. The Agents of SHIELD

**A/N: Hello again! This chapter was a little difficult to type out, but I hope it's good enough for you guys. Please bear in mind that I still haven't read the comics yet, and most probably never will (due to the long history of all of the comics, and the many writers and artists they have all had). That being said, if something is written in my story that goes against anything in the comics to the point of setting your teeth on edge and putting you off the rest of my story (which are moments that we've ALL had), then don't be afraid to calmly and politely tell me either through review or private messaging. That also goes for previous chapters.**

 **Also, I forgot to point out that I've now changed the rating to 'M'. The reason for this is simply due to the language (what can I say? I grew up with worse in the first year of middle school...) It can be sort of hard knowing when it's _too_ much swearing when half the 'T' stories I've read have at least one swear word in each chapter and fairly risque love scenes. **

**Anyway, to those of you who actually read all of that rambling ( XD ), thank you for choosing to read my story, and I hope you like this chapter.**

 **Chapter 20**

 **The Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D**

A tense silence engulfs the living room as everyone sips their respective drinks in cautious silence. Now that the heart warming hugs and kisses are out of the way, it only managed to clear up some space for the other elephant in the room to come barging its way into the sweet family reunion.

Ben stares at the agents with suspicion, taking a large sip of lager from the can he holds just tight enough to dent.

The agent that drove me back here stares back at Ben. He's the only agent that chose to have the lager- the other two from the car having preferred coffee. He watches Ben with narrowed calculating eyes, and the chosen lager left forgotten on the table.

Mom carefully eyes another agent that I haven't met yet while drinking her tea. The female agent blankly stares back at Mom from where she stands near the slightly open window; her face is void of emotion as she seems to take a very calculated sip of her water.

Agent Dickhead simply chooses to glare at me. Don't know what _his_ problem is.

A little out of the way; seated on the floor near the corner of the room, Lexie keeps his head down and his face covered by his now shoulder length hair while pretending to do homework. I know he's only _pretending_ because the tablet screen he'd been reading from had gone black around ten minutes ago.

Agent Coulson casually leans against the wall a couple of metres away from the door. He most probably would be sitting down, if it weren't for the fact that all the other seats are taken. He started humming random songs about a quarter of an hour ago -obviously trying to defuse the potentially deadly tension (those agents are fucking terrifying!) but failing miserably.

"This is a very nice home," Agent Coulson says with a benign smile. Mom looks away from her staring contest with the female agent and gives a shaky smile.

"Thank you," she says softly, before taking a long sip from her tea. With the amount she's already drunk from it, it has to be empty by now.

"You're welcome," Agent Coulson says politely. "I always believed that a person's home reflects their character." Mom hums distractedly as she feigns another sip of her tea.

The silence falls again. Swallowing the last sip of my own lukewarm tea, I turn to the female agent.

"So, who are you?" I ask her, not that I actually care. I've never really been much for politeness, and these agents haven't exactly left a very good impression for me...

Well, the American one isn't so bad, I guess...

She raises an eyebrow in a manner similar to the way Loki does when he's moderately unimpressed.

"Agent Mischerova," she says flatly with a strong American twang.

Two Americans. I honestly don't know whether I'd expected more or less of them. Probably more, considering how dangerous they consider Loki to be.

"Why are there only four of you?" I ask her, as Loki most certainly could have killed them with a twitch if he'd wanted to.

"I assure you that we are fully capable of holding our own in a fight, if we need to," Agent Coulson says reassuringly from his place against the wall. I raise my eyebrows as I flick my eyes towards Agent Dickhead, who now seems to be judging our couch and carpet.

"Really?" I say, my voice full of skepticism. "The three of you, against Loki?" Mom drags in a sharp breath of air over on her two seater couch. Ben -who'd chosen to sit next to her- pats her on the back, looking rather pissed at the mention of Loki.

 _Yeah, they wouldn't understand..._ I drop my gaze to stare at the carpet. Their reactions don't exactly make me feel any better. Forcing myself to look back up at the agents, I see that the female agent that stayed with my parents -Agent What's-Her-Face- has now turned her suspicious eyes to me. She takes a short sip of water as her eyes seem to unravel my very soul in an attempt to reveal my secrets. I swallow nervously as the stare seems to intensify.

Meanwhile, Agent Coulson works to answer my already half-forgotten question.

"We were only sent in to gauge the situation, as we had no proof that Loki had, in fact, taken residence in those woods. All we had to go on was a funny feeling the locals had been describing around that area, and some fireworks. Not nearly enough to call upon an entire task force, so it's very fortunate that we had decided to take the chance, or we wouldn't have alerted Thor of your location, and we wouldn't be talking here now." Agent Coulson sends another of what seems to surely be a signature smile my way before taking a sip of what must be disgustingly cold coffee.

 _Yeah, very good job. Perfect, in fact._ I can sense Agent Missy's eyes practically burning my face off as I turn my mug over in my hands and stare as the cute cartoon fox face appears and disappears with each rotation.

Does Loki like foxes? I never thought to ask him...

"Miss White-Friar," the female agent says in the silence that follows Agent Coulson's speech. "What exactly was your relationship with Loki?"

My head whips up to meet her stare as a frown takes over my features.

 _What?!_ She couldn't have- _Wouldn't_ have- How could she possibly-

But yet the look she's giving me says it all. She knows. That bitch reads people better than I read books, and my thoughts were most probably plastered all over my face.

"He was my captor," I say, but I know it'll be completely useless to argue the matter.

"You can tell us the truth, Miss White-Friar," the woman says in a much gentler tone. Her change from stiff and unapproachable to gentle and understanding almost gives me emotional whiplash. "You would be surprised with the amount of kidnap victims we encounter who end up developing a strong emotional bond with their captors. You wouldn't be the first to have such feelings, Shana." So, resorting to the first name basis strategy to make me feel more comfortable with her on a friendly level. She's smart, I'll give her that.

"We... got to know each other fairly well, but that's about it." While Mom and Ben glance at each other in confusion, the agents simply look at me with their expressions cold and serious.

"Would you mind if we spoke with Miss White-Friar on her own, Ms. White-Friar, Mr. White-Friar and Mr. Asin?" Agent Coulson asks firm but politely, with his sharp eyes fixed on my face. Reluctantly, the others leave the room- Mom and Ben obviously wanting to stick around to provide me with support. Lexie most probably just wants to know the latest gossip, and make sure that the agents don't go whisking me away so soon after getting me back again.

The agents wait several minutes after the door closes; the female agent only opens her mouth to speak once the soft murmuring of speech between the others can heard through the thin walls of the house. It sounds like they might be somewhere in the kitchen.

"You're not in trouble, Shana," she assures me in a voice just soft enough to prevent eavesdropping, whilst still allowing me to hear her. "We just need to know so that we can figure out the kind of situation we are in." Agent Coulson nods his head in encouragement, while Agent Dickhead just smirks knowingly at me. I glare back at him.

"Alright, I'll tell," I eventually say, dragging my eyes back to Agent Missy. "But only if you tell me your real name."

Agent Missy's face swiftly returns to being blank and expressionless. Everyone in the room stares at me mostly in shock.

"What do you mean?" Agent Missy finally says, her tone harsh and not allowing any bullshit in my part.

"Well," I say slowly as I look around the room at the other agents. "You don't really strike me as being quite in the same league as the other agents in this room."

"And why would that make you think that I'm not Agent Mischerova?" she asks me, her tone sharp and forceful.

"Because out of all the other agents, you're the one I'm scared of," I reply honestly. "Of course, I can't speak much for Mr. Strong and Silent Type over there, but Agent Dickhead is either playing up your scary vibe, or you should seriously consider firing the arsehole. As for Agent Coulson, he seems friendly enough. Might have a little bit of danger about him, but he seems harmless- though I also doubt that Coulson is his real name." The man himself gives me a rather proud smile, which serves to more or less confirm my thoughts. "You, on the other hand, strike me as a lier who could kill me in a snap."

Everyone stares at me in silence as I watch the woman narrow her eyes at me. You don't spend two months lodging with Loki without developing a certain sense for this sort of thing.

"So, you tell me your dark little secret, and I'll tell you mine," I negotiate. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your name; which is more than I can say for you lot with my secret," I flick my eyes around the room, knowing full well that they'll tell their superiors (and in Agent Dickhead's case, their friends) about my secret fairytale affair.

"I can't give you that information," she says stiffly. Her posture screams refusal, and I know I wouldn't be able to push her into doing this.

"Alright, then," I say with a slow nod of my head. "Well, then. You'd just have to stick with assumptions and hear-say, then; which is a shame, as it was such an easy offer." I shake my head mournfully, but I secretly rejoice at dodging this bullet. I don't want to be talking about my feelings to these people. Not when I already know what they'd say and how they'd react.

Either they'd react in pity, or in disgust. Either way, they'll probably talk down Loki, and that's the last thing I want to hear right now.

Agent Missy turns her head to look towards Agent Coulson. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him make a slight movement, but I keep my eyes trained on the woman standing near the window.

"Natasha Romanoff," she finally says, her voice seeming to dare me to say something against it.

"How do I know that's your real name?" I ask her. If she lied once, I'm sure she could easily lie again about this.

"You'll just have to take my word on it," she says simply, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at me expectantly.

She has a point. She gave me her name, so I guess it's time to spill.

I seriously thought she wouldn't say- what with her being a top secret government spy and all. Maybe Natasha Romanoff isn't even her real name? But then again, maybe it's just the name she uses the most?

With a sigh, I nod my head in defeat.

"Fine, we fucked," I say, figuring it would be best if I went about this as quick and blunt as possible. "Course, he started off being a bit of an arsehole, but he soon got better."

"But he hurt you," the quiet agent says in a much higher pitched voice than I'd expected. He gestures to my arms, where the soft shimmering of scar tissue can still be seen visibly. I shrug dismissively.

"It was a complete accident," I say in explanation. All four of the agents look at me in disbelief.

"It's true," I say, a little defensively. "He was working on his ice magic. I'd followed him out into the woods while he was distracted and made him jump whilst his mind was focused on other things. He made it more than a little known that he felt sorry for hurting me." They still don't look completely sold.

"Ice shouldn't give people that kind of scarring," Agent Coulson says in concern as he walks over to examine my arms.

"Well, it looks like _magic_ ice does," I say stubbornly. Subconsciously, I wrap my arms across my chest, not liking the way that the agents are staring at them. I try to cover the light shimmering with my hands, but even they are lightly scarred.

"But he never... _forced_ himself on you, did he?" Natasha asks before we could get any further off topic.

"Believe it or not, he didn't," I say decisively. _Definitely_ nothing forced about any of it...

"Who would _willingly_ screw that monster?" Agent Dickhead scoffs under his breath. I immediately turn my eyes to him and growl at the man.

"Me, obviously," he curls his upper lip in disgust at my answer. "Alright, you listen now, Agent Fuck-Face-"

"It's _Agent Kerne,_ " he interrupts me to say, sounding very annoyed with his nicknames (he wouldn't be the first person). "Agent Coulson had told you that the second we were in the car."

"Whatever," I roll my eyes. "I've had it with you. You've been glaring at me from the beginning, before I'd even so much as opened my mouth; so please, just shut your face and let me talk," I snap, giving him my own look of disgust.

He opens his mouth to argue some more, but Agent Coulson- who's taken a seat on the now empty two seater couch adjacent to me- catches his eye and shakes his head.

The man wisely clamps his jaws shut and fixes his eyes to blankly stare ahead of himself.

"I hope you wouldn't mind if we brought you in at some point soon to run some tests on you," Agent Coulson says delicately. I stare at the man warily.

"Why?" I ask him. They're not going to go do some sort of alien autopsy thing on me just because I happened to shag an alien, are they? I'm pretty sure that's not the way it works...

"We need to perform some tests to make sure that no harmful substances have entered your bloodstream- regardless of whether or not it was intentional," Agent Coulson explains; quickly adding the last part before I have chance to argue back.

"As he's from a separate Realm to Thor, any data we have managed to gather on Thor wouldn't be considered reliable enough for your situation," Natasha cuts in to explain.

"I guess it makes sense," I cautiously allow. "But, could it be done later? Maybe tomorrow or something?" I'd really wanted to be able to settle down first, now that I'm back home again.

"It would be better if we did the tests as soon as possible," Agent Coulson says. "But I suppose the lab would need time to be effectively set up. How about we come to collect you at around six, tomorrow morning?"

" _Six_ in the _morning?"_ I ask in horror. Nah, fuck _that!_

"We could make it five," Natasha cuts in slyly. I give her a glare capable of burning up a thousand Suns. She just smirks back.

"You know what? Fuck it," I say with a shrug as I turn to look back at Agent Coulson again. "It's not like I have a great deal planned for tomorrow, anyway."

"Good," the Agent says as he stands up; cueing for everyone else to do the same.

"Then we'll see you tomorrow, Miss White-Friar," Agent Coulson says politely.

With very little else said, all four agents leave the house to go wherever agents go to hang their suits. I stay seated in my chair, thinking of all the things that might happen to me tomorrow. Will there be tests and experiments? Would any of them hurt? Will I get superpowers at the end of it all? Will there be needles?

I _hope_ there won't be any needles...

All of them are valid thoughts and concerns, but there's one thing that's painfully obvious to me.

There goes my day of relaxation tomorrow.


	21. Broken Dreams of a Dying Dragon

**A/N: Unfortunately, these last couple of chapters weren't fully beta read, so I hope it's not too full of mistakes. However, if you do find any errors, please be sure to tell me about them (along with where they are in the story, of course). This goes for all the previous chapters, too. That being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Half of it pretty much wrote itself... : /**

 **Chapter 21**

 **Broken Dreams of a Dying Dragon**

Once the agents were off the property, Mom, Ben and Lexie walked into the room in near synchrony. Mom had gently ushered me to the couch, where is she now sitting with an arm wrapped comfortingly around my shoulders while Ben sits in my vacated arm chair next to the sofa. All four of us stare blankly while the female presenter on the TV announces the winner for some generic game show.

"What was he like?" Lexie suddenly breaks the silence to ask. Mom shoots him a sharp look to shut him up.

"It's alright, Mom," I reassure her. I know they don't really understand, but I guess that's why it's really important that I answer Lexie's question, and answer it _right._

"No, it's not alright!" Mom argues. "That man kidnapped you and did who knows what horrific things to you," she says seriously, further proving my thoughts.

"He actually wasn't all that bad," I say calmly. "I mean, he had me doing the cooking and the cleaning, and he was a bit of an arse. Other than that, he really wasn't that bad at all," I say defensively. Mom leans back to look directly into my eyes.

"Sweetheart," she says gently with a suspicious amount of pity in her eyes. "You must be feeling very stressed after your ordeal. That kind woman from the agency had offered you regular meetings with a psychiatrist, if you would like it," I stare at Mom in a sort of stunned disbelief.

"Rachael," Ben softly calls for Mom's attention. "You know how she feels about you controlling her life."

"I'm not controlling her life, Ben," Mom denies with a scoff. I raise my eyebrows at Mom, but ultimately keep silent. As annoying as it may be, I understand what she's doing.

 _I only wish I could tell them all what really happened in the cabin. About who Loki really is._

"Rachael," Ben says, now sounding exhausted. "You're trying to pressure her to see a psychiatrist, when she might not even need one."

 _Of course, they might not mind the fact that I love Loki._

"Of course she needs to see a psychiatrist, Ben! She was _kidnapped_ by a _monster!"_

 _Well, it might take some adjustment, but they'll understand. They might even approve of it._

"I _know_ , Rachael, but I'm just saying that she might not even have to fork out hundreds of pounds just for some trained professional to say that she's alright!"

 _All I have to say is that I'm fine, Loki's fine and we can all go our merry way._

"She wouldn't _have_ to fork out hundreds of pounds. The woman- Agent Mitch-something-or-other- said that they'd pay for it all, and even if they didn't, _we_ would help towards the costs."

 _The agents didn't seem to mind the idea of me and Loki..._

" _How_ could either of us help towards the costs? No offence, but I'm living off of peanuts, and you're living on benefits at the moment!"

 _They seemed a little disturbed, sure. But they also didn't seem to hate me for it._

"I could make it work."

 _Maybe I_ could _tell them..._

"How? It's not like Shana's the only child you've got to think about."

 _Would they hate me for it?_

"Erm, I'm not a child any more, Ben," Lexie cautiously cuts in from where he sits on the other couch. "And neither is Shana."

 _If the agents were alright with it, then why would Mom and Ben hate me for it?_

"Alex, you're still my responsibility while you're under this roof," Mom argues back a little too sharply.

 _Mom and Ben are normally very laid back people. After some time, they'll be fine with it._

"Precisely! Which is why neither of us could pay for something that Shana obviously doesn't even seem to need!"

 _Maybe I'll tell them... later._

"She doesn't need it?! Ben, she's been silently staring into space for the last _five minutes!"_ Mom shouts. That snaps me out of my thoughts.

"W-what?" I ask blankly.

"See what I mean? She obviously needs help to get over whatever that monster did to her!" Mom says, still shouting as she pulls me tightly to her side.

 _Oh_ fuck. _I really need to fix this._

"Mom, I'm fine!" I say, pushing myself away from her.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but that's total bullshit," Mom says as she lets go of me to cross her arms defiantly.

"No, really. He was actually pretty good," I insist loudly so they can't interrupt me. I need to tell them this before they get it in their minds that Loki's poison, and that I'm nothing but the helpless victim.

"He told me all sorts of stuff about Asgardian culture and all the other Realms. He showed me magic; taught me how to cook (sort of) and bought me books when I started to get bored." Lexie is leaning forward now, his homework forgotten as he listens on in fascination. Mom continues to look at me with concern, while Ben listens to me with a conflicted expression written on his face.

"The worse type of punishment he gave me was polishing apples, for fuck's sake!" I exclaim.

"Language," Ben says just as absently as when Lexie swore earlier. He's seemed really distracted all day, come to think of it...

"Wait, Ben," Mom cuts in in case of further reprimand. "What do you mean by him punishing you?" I can tell that she's deeply disturbed by the prospect.

"Don't worry, Mom," I say reassuringly. "I practically asked for it, what with all the arguments I started and the amount of times I refused to do what he told me to do."

"What sort of things did he ask you to do?" Mom quickly cuts in to anxiously say.

"Just some chore stuff. Clean the place and make the meals." I shrug, as they are pretty much stuff I would have done back at my little rented room, anyway. Besides, I'm fairly certain I already told them this.

"So he made you his slave?" Mom asks in horror.

"You know, that's exactly what I called it, too," I say, pretending to be shocked. "Of course, he just stubbornly claimed that I was his _servant_ not his _slave,_ " I roll my eyes. And the difference is what, exactly?

"So he kidnapped you and forced you into becoming his _slave,"_ Mom says slowly in disgust.

 _Shit, I know where this is heading._

"Look, he really wasn't that-"

"Bad, we know," Mom snaps, looking progressively mad. The doorbell rings.

"That's the pizza," Lexie mumbles as he slides off the couch to head towards the door.

 _Since when did he order pizza?_ However, before I can ask, Mom continues talking.

"Did he brainwash you? I've heard that brainwashing can be triggered with certain words or phrasing."

"No, I wasn't brainwashed, Mom," _or at least I fucking well hope not!_

"Are you sure? I also heard that he was able to magically brainwash a load of people over in America to do all sorts of horrible things. He might have done it to you," Mom says anxiously as she looks me over like she'd be able to see the signs of brainwashing on me.

"Mom-" I need to stop this, before I start to doubt the last couple of months more than I already do.

"I'll, er... Help with the pizza," Ben mutters as he stands up from the armchair and rushes into the kitchen.

Those cowardly, traitorous bastards. The pizza's pre-cut and only requires one person to serve. Is there even any pizza in the kitchen? Was this all an excuse to leg it before the stress levels got too high? And what's taking them so long just to get the pizza off the pizza guy?

"I'm sorry," Mom says softly as she turns on the couch to better face me, but her eyes stay fixed on her locked hands. "I've just been so worried about you. All the things that just went rushing through my mind- _especially_ when those agents told us what they'd suspected." Mom stops talking as her eyes fill with tears. She raises her hand to cover her trembling bottom lip, tilting her head downwards, she hides her face beneath her long blond hair as she begins to sob.

"Mom," I say so softly that it's almost a whisper. "It's alright. I promise that I've not been brainwashed, I'm not going through PTSD, I'm not going to go on some kind of psycho rampage-"

"Psycho rampage?" my Mom croaks as she quickly lifts her head to stare at me in horror. "I never said anything about you going on a _psycho rampage!"_ I stare quietly at her until she's silent.

"Are you done?" I ask her. She slowly nods her head before ducking it down again. "As I was saying, everything is fine. I'm here, I'm safe and completely untraumatised." Well, that might not be _completely_ true, but I suppose there are far worse abductions than what I went through...

"Is it safe to come back in, now?" Lexie calls from in the kitchen. I chuckle softly as Mom nods her head and lifts it to show her small and relieved smile.

"Yes, the interrogation's over," she calls to the guys in the kitchen. "For now, anyway," she adds just as I begin to relax back into the couch. I pretend to glare at her as Ben and Lexie each place a box of pizza on the coffee table in front of us.

Now that we have a suitable distraction from all the questions, I immediately dive for my favourite pizza- the ham and pineapple pizza.

"Yeah, fuck off mates 'cause it's _mine!"_ I growl victoriously as I open the box to take out my first slice of victory pizza.

"Shana," Ben sighs in resignation. He usually doesn't even bother to actively tell me off any more.

"Sorry," I say around a mouth full of pizza, watching as one of the contestants on the TV show answers one of the opening _easy_ questions wrong.

"Even a hamster would know that," I say in disgust as the contestant awkwardly fumbles through the rest of the questions.

"Not everyone knows the same things you do, Shana," Ben lectures me as he takes a large bite out of his spiced beef pizza.

"Yeah, but everyone knows that beef burgers are made from cows. I mean, come on- it's in the fucking name," I say with an exaggerated wave towards the screen.

"Language. Again." Ben says with a huff as he takes another bite from the slice.

"Shana," Lexie calls for my attention from the other couch. "Back to the thing with Loki-"

"Alex," Mom says scornfully as she glares in warning at Lexie. He waves his hand at Mom to shush her for a moment.

"Yeah, Mom. Don't worry, I wasn't going to- I mean, I was just going to ask you something, Shana." He looks me straight in the eyes and asks me with false seriousness and a small smile showing his amusement, "Loki kidnapped you, right?"

Mom's glare hardens as I cautiously nod my head.

"So... Does that mean that you were technically abducted by an alien?" Ben snorts slightly from his repressed laughter as Lexie's smirk becomes a full grin. Mom's glare doesn't waver, until I laugh loudly.

"Yeah, I suppose I was," I say through my laughter.

"You're not going to, like, have any alien babies or anything, are you?" Lexie asks, which prompts Mom to turn her hard stare into a wide eyed look of horror. However, I laugh at the question.

"Nah, don't worry about it," I say with a soft chuckle as Mom slowly relaxes again next to me. "I shouldn't be alien pregnant," then again, did we use protection?

 _I better not be alien pregnant..._

 **-BREAK-**

 _I sit on a cliff overlooking a wide stretch of snowy landscape. The sky is dark and murky with clouds overhead. Behind me, I hear the sound of great wings as the dragon lands on the ground._

 _"Been a while," I comment as the creature walks over to me._

 _"I had things to do," the dragon says, seeming to shrug his wings. We stand for a while and just stare in silence at the ever changing scenery in front of us._

 _"Where are we?" I finally ask him in a hushed tone. It's the same place we've been to for all the dreams we met in, but I still don't know where it is. Is it the Arctic? The North Pole?_

 _Is it even on Earth?_

 _The dragon shifts his large head to look down towards me. He seems to smile sadly as he says in his gentle and calming voice, "Don't worry, Shana. All you need to know is that you are safe and home."_

 _Really? It doesn't look like home..._

 _I tell the dragon this, and he chuckles before saying wisely, "Home is many things. The embrace of a lover, the territory of your mother, or wherever your children live. This is just one of your homes."_

 _I look out at the mountains in the distance. All I can see of them are dark giant ridges outlining the horizon._

 _"Seems like a pretty shit home, no offence," I grumble as I hug my arms to my body against a strong gust of cold air. The dragon sniggers._

 _"No worries; I always thought so, too," the dragon says reassuringly. Suddenly, he squints his large green eyes into the distance, and I see it. A bright, multicoloured pillar of light flashes near the mountains. It remains flickering there for what must be about a minute, before vanishing into nothing._

 _"What-" I don't get time to finish my sentence before I'm quickly spun round by a large scaly paw and forced to stare into the eyes of the black dragon, who's now bowing his head to look directly at me. He stares at me with slightly squinted eyes as he seems to internally work out an especially difficult puzzle._

 _"This will be our last meeting," he says in a whisper. "Our dreams are starting to merge too much. I'm guessing that it'll happen soon, now."_

 _"But what will?" I ask in frustration. "What do you mean? What's going to happen? What's with the light? Why are our-?"_

 _"Just trust me," he growls, his eyes anxiously flicking towards the horizon. The wind carries to my ears what sounds like a lot of people running and screaming; I turn my head to look towards the noise._

 _"Don't," the dragon pleads. I turn my eyes back to his (they look so sad). "I need to say this- I've burned off so much energy to get here. I should have said it before, but..." He trails off, and the sounds seem to grow louder._

 _"I only have enough time to say this, and you_ must _remember it for my sake," he takes a nervous breath as the noise threatens to overwhelm us._

 _"In sixteen years, don't let them out of your sight."_

 _"What?" I ask him. What does he mean? What's going to happen? Don't let_ who _out of my sight?_

 _But it's too late. With a great rush, my vision is filled with an ocean of colours as hundreds of warriors shoot past me. Between the gaps of the many soldiers, I see the dragon's head slowly get cut to shreds by the swords of the multitude of Frost Giants, Elves, Dwarfs, Asgardians, and all the rest of them as they fly past us._

I scream.


	22. A Marvellous Vertibird

**A/N: I'll admit that it's been a short while since I last watched anything to do with the SHIELD helipad, and even when I _was_ watching it, I wasn't exactly admiring the architecture at the time. That being said, I hope this chapter is still passable to the rest of you.**

 **Also, a sincere thank you to everyone who's followed/favourited my story so far. It makes me happy to know that people genuinely appreciate this story. : )**

 **Chapter 22**

 **A Marvellous Vertibird**

I feel crap the next day. In the night, I was plagued with nightmares of a black scaled, green eyed dragon in danger. It was just like in the past, until the end bit. I usually could always tell what was a dream and what was... More...

After the bit with the warriors (as that _must_ be what they were), my mind seemed to take over the dream and warped it into some kind of espionage mission to save some kind of black dragon ornament from my worse nightmare and greatest phobia. Those fucking knitted teddy bears.

But back on topic. What was that bit about something happening in sixteen years? Does that mean sixteen years ago, or in sixteen years time?

Well... Of course he means sixteen years time (I think), but what about the rest of it? Maybe those agents would be able to tell me more about it today. A knock sounds at the door as I stretch and yawn in bed.

"Yep," I say tiredly to the door as I drowsily check my clock. 9:17. Still got about two months of lie-ins to try and catch up on.

"Miss White-Friar," an unmistakably recognisable female voice says from the other side of the door. "We were supposed to have left for S.H.I.E.L.D head quarters over three hours ago."

"Oh, _fack_ _it!"_ I exclaim as I roll out of bed and change into the first clothes my hands touch (my dark blue shirt with small hot pink polka dots decorating it, and my dark denim skinny jeans with a dark grey hoody to finish the look). "Coming!" I yell as I hastily drown myself in deodorant before throwing the door wide open.

"Now, let's piss off and get this over and done with ASAP," I say nervously. After all, knitted teddy bears may be my arch enemies, but needles come as a close second.

I was forever scarred after my first injections as a very small child, where I clearly remember thinking in my traumatised young mind, "No more!"

And now here I am betraying that young child of my memories by getting literally fucking experimented on. Fucking brilliant.

Sorry if I sound a little fucking tense, but I don't much fucking like having some prick stick his finger up my arse to see if shit still comes out of it, and I _especially_ fucking despise it when that same prick inserts some kind of crap into my veins that has _fuck knows what bullshit in it!_

So, yeah. I'm a little tense.

I'm surprised to see a notable lack of agents in the living room as I shuffle my way past it towards the front door.

"So, where's Smiles, Grumpy and Dark 'n' Brooding?" I ask Natasha as I open the door to step outside, only to have my question immediately answered.

"Sorry we're late. There was an issue involving an extinct reptile and an illegal drug," Coulson says swiftly from where he stands next to the car. I can also see both of the other two agents sitting in the front two seats of the car.

"Don't worry, Agent Coulson," Natasha says, sounding quite irritated. "She was still asleep when I came to collect her."

"Hey!" I say defensively, not much liking the way she's looking at me. "It takes work and effort to look as fabulous as I do!" She just blankly stares at me, unimpressed with my sense of humour.

I can already tell that our relationship will be a... _strained_ one.

Agent Coulson just smiles patiently at me, even while Agent Dickhead glares silently through the window from the front passenger seat.

 **-BREAK-**

The journey stretches on for what feels like forever, but was actually only a couple of hours. I had just about enough time to say goodbye to everyone before the agents whisked me away to take me to their top secret base. The car is silent for most of the drive, with me crammed between Agent Coulson and the stiff and silent Natasha. Agent Coulson frequently tries to pick up the conversation in the car, with the occasional bit of help from Agent Dickhead (though most of the time, he just manages to piss me off), but he eventually gives up, filling the car with silence again.

As the car finally stops, I see the ocean spread out from the window and a welcoming sandy beach.

"Are you seriously trying to tell me that your top secret government hideaway is located on the beach?" I ask incredulously. Agent Dickhead snorts in amusement as Agent Coulson calmly answers.

"No, but we're almost there," he says as we climb out of the car and make our way down to the beach below. Judging by the signs dotted about, it appears to be a private beach that is highly unaccessible to anyone other than those who own it. Those people, it seems, being S.H.I.E.L.D.

With Dark 'n' Brooding now leading the way, we walk towards a dock with several simple boats tied up to it.

"You're fucking shitting me, right?" I say in disbelief. "Is your little hideout in Atlantis or something?"

"You know, I'm really starting to feel like punching you in the face, right now," Agent Dickhead says through gritted teeth and a sidelong glare at me. I glare back at him from where I walk behind him and to the right while carefully treading to keep the sand out of my poorly chosen trainers (and failing).

"And I'm really starting to feel like punching you in the dick. I'd like to see just how high you'd scream, Agent Dickhead," I retort truthfully. To my right, Natasha smirks and gives me an approving nod, even as Agent Dickhead grumbles about how much of an unfair bitch I am.

"You seem to like calling Kerne that," Natasha says softly, her voice masterfully pitched just low enough for me to hear her, and for the others to be oblivious. I shrug as Dark 'n' Brooding leads the way to the least most attractive boat.

"What can I say? He's a dickhead," I say simply as we congregate around the boat. Agent Dickhead snarls at me.

"My _name_ is _Kerne!"_ he shouts, almost frothing at the mouth. I roll my eyes at the bloke.

"Look, mate, I lived with a crazy evil god for two months and survived with more than just my sanity intact. Do you think a whiny little prick such as yourself could possibly come even _close_ to intimidating me?" I ask him, more incredulous that he would think such a thing than anything else. His nostrils flare as he tightens his fists.

"In fact, I kind of find it cute," I say, smirking at his anger. Dark 'n' Brooding has to hold him back as Agent Dickhead goes to lunge for me.

"For fuck's sake, remember what I told you before- just ignore her!" Dark 'n' Brooding says as Dick continues to struggle for me. I raise an unimpressed eyebrow at him- just like the one Loki used to raise for me.

"Let me guess, I remind him of his abusive mother or something, right?" I ask Agent Coulson and Natasha as I watch the two men struggle.

"Actually, I think you remind him of his little sister," Agent Coulson says calmly.

" _Don't fucking tell her!"_ Dick shouts out, looking and sounding kind of demented.

"If we're done, we need to take you to the lab," Agent Coulson says in what sounds like serious disappointment. He presses a concealed button to the side of the door, and gestures for me to go inside after the door slides open.

The inside is quite a bit more clean and advanced than what the aged and battered external of the ship might suggest. Though it only just has enough room for the five of us, it certainly seems almost state of the art. Which, of course, is what I should have expected from a boat owned by a top secret agency like S.H.I.E.L.D.

As Agent Coulson, Dick and I sit down on the white leather seats that are fixed to the walls, Natasha makes her way to the top of the boat in order to steer it. While she does this, Dark 'n' Brooding quickly goes around to check that all is well with the small boat.

"You need to work on your temper," Agent Coulson says to Dick while he's seated between us.

"But she-" Dick starts to complain, but Agent Coulson swiftly intervenes.

"She's the victim of kidnapping by one of S.H.I.E L.D's greatest enemies. It doesn't matter whether she has feelings for him now or not; as an agent and representative of S.H.I.E.L.D, you do not attempt to attack someone you are ordered to protect," he scolds Dick, who reluctantly ducks his head in shame.

"For now, I'll let it go as you haven't caused any harm to her yet and because she had antagonised you first, but I won't be so lenient should it happen again," he warns with a sharp glare to Dick.

"As for you," he says, his attention now turning to me. "Please don't upset my agents. Some of them are more... _delicate_ than you are," Agent Coulson says carefully. Dick stares at him in horrified outrage.

"This is fucking bullshit, man," Dick says angrily as he gets up and storms his way into the toilets.

"As I said. Very delicate," Agent Coulson says without even sparing Dick a glance as he slams the door shut. "He'll be disciplined, though. I'd say a few months without any missions and frequent appointments with an anger management specialist would suit him fine."

"Yeah, I think he might actually need more than that," I say warily as I hear what sounds like a furious yell coming from within the toilets.

"He'll be fine," Agent Coulson says. "After all, he either gets better, or finds a different department to work in."

"But why does he seem to hate me so much?" I ask in confusion. After all, I might be pretty damn annoying, but most people can tolerate me a whole lot better than that guy does. Hell, even _Loki_ tolerated me better in our _first week!_

"It's not really my place to say," Agent Coulson says carefully. "And besides, the information around it is classified."

"Really?" I ask in disappointment. "But I take it that it has something to do with that sister I supposedly remind him of?"

"Yes," Agent Coulson says. "I never met her, myself. Apparently, she was a very reckless girl with a worse mouth than yours."

 _Huh. Loki would have loved to have heard that,_ I think with a smirk as I think back to all the times he complained about my language. Well, I told him I wasn't all that special.

"I'm sure we would have got along swimmingly," I say sarcastically. The funny thing is, I never really get along very well with like minded people.

I wonder why that might be...

 **-BREAK-**

Surprisingly enough, the boat trip lasts for a very short amount of time. About a quarter of an hour later, Agent Coulson is nudging me towards the entrance of the boat.

Stepping outside again, I notice that we appear to be stepping onto a large and unusual shaped ship. People rush around in all manner of uniforms, from the crisp and clean suits of the agents, to the more casual scientists and technicians.

"You know," I say thoughtfully as I eye up the expensive sleek looking planes positioned about the massive ship. "Somehow, I'm really not surprised." Agent Coulson turns to give me a small and rather fond smile.

But my analysing of the ship soon comes to an end as Agent Coulson, Natasha and Dark 'n' Brooding (I really need to come up with a new nickname for him) lead me towards a door to the guts of the ship. Dick is left to calm down back on the boat.

The inside isn't quite as futuristic as the boat, which I find rather unusual as the agents leads me through dark corridor after dark corridor. But that's not to say that it's not high-tech or secure, of course. Walking through the corridors, I see metal sliding doors leading into laboratories filled with machines I couldn't even begin to understand, and scientists carefully working hard around them.

"So, what was the deal with the boat?" I ask as we head down another corridor- this one being noticeably larger than the others- as we walk towards the door at the far end.

"What do you mean?" Agent Coulson asks as he types in a code to open the large door in front of us.

"Well, I don't know about you, but it seemed to be going for a bit of a different style to this place," I answer as I look around the darker ship and compare it to the blindingly white interior of the small boat.

"The main S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier is often on the move. Because of this, the boats occasionally have to travel hundreds of miles to reach it, which calls for a more comfortable interior for the agents during their missions," he says as he provides the security machine with a card to read and a fingerprint. The door finally opens.

"Bit excessive, all that security crap," I comment with a indicative nod towards the scanner mounted to the wall.

"After what happened last year with Loki, we're taking no chances," Agent Coulson says, before indicating me to ahead of him into the large room in front of me.

The first word that comes to mind when I see the room is that it is _massive._ And full of all sorts of fancy computers, but mainly that it's huge. A large window at the far end of the room (or should I say 'hall'?) provides a clear view of the ocean stretched around us as the window reaches from the room's floor to its ceiling.

"What is this? Some kind of battleship?" I ask as I see some of the more questionable items dotted about the room, and think back about the unusual shaping of the ship as a whole.

"Almost," Agent Coulson says from where he stands next to me. "It's the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier, not a ship." I throw him a questioning look, not really seeing what he's trying to say.

" _Heli_ carrier _,"_ Natasha finally speaks up, and I can almost hear her eyes rolling. "As in, it flies." My eyes widen as I looks around the space again, but with a new sense of interest and respect.

"No shit," I say, my voice a little high from surprise. "So you're saying that this hunk of metal is an overgrown vertibird?" Broody shocks me with a dignified humorous sniff.

"A what?" Natasha asks blankly.

"A vertibird. You know, those flying things in the Fallout universe?" Natasha continues to give me her blank stare, while Agent Coulson resolutely keeps his eyes facing the window- either not hearing us, or already getting used to me, and is practising the art of ignoring my nonsense.

"Whatever," I drop the subject with a careless shrug. "Just know that it's fucking cool that S.H.I.E.L.D has its own freaking vertibird, alright?"


	23. Guinea Pig

**A/N: Well, this chapter was a bit of a pain to write. There I was, planning on it being some boring little chapter where the main character has some tests done to ensure she's not about to turn into some horrific monstrosity that devours all of humanity, or some similar thing. You know, leave the action for later and all that stuff.**

 **But the more I wrote, the less I resisted, until...**

 **Over all, I actually sort of enjoyed writing this chapter. Heck, the recurring case of writer's block might have even _saved_ this chapter (in my personal completely unbiased opinion).**

 **All that being said, I hope this chapter isn't too much of a weird rush of circumstances for you. : )**

 **Chapter 23**

 **Guinea Pig**

The laboratory that the agents take me to is the closest the S.H.I.E.L.D base has come to the style of the boat that I've seen yet. The large room is dominantly white, with the odd hint of silver and steel to break up the colour scheme a little bit. It's so sterile, my eyes ache painfully just from peeking into the room.

"Dr Bridgham, we're here for Miss. White-Friar's appointment," Agent Coulson says politely to the one lone scientist in the room. He scoffs as he slowly stands and walks away from his computer, frowning at us in annoyance.

"The _appointment_ was three hours ago," he says, coming to a stop several small steps away from Agent Coulson.

"We ran into some troubles while on our way to collect her," the agent smoothly says. The scientist narrows his eyes and nods briskly.

"Right. Of course you were busy," he says just a little too sharply.

What is it with these guys and hiring pricks like this?

"This is Dr Bridgham," Natasha unnecessarily introduces as the doctor leads me to a chair next to a seemingly random desk (considering that the large room has at least a dozen of the same desk). "He runs this laboratory, and specialises in almost everything to do with the human body."

"Of course it would _seem_ that way to you," the old scientist snaps grouchily. Is he really so intent on being an arse that he even snarls at a compliment? Natasha just stares back coldly, before walking over at a brisk pace to whisper something near Agent Coulson's ear.

"Sorry, Miss White-Friar, but we have to go. Dr Bridgham will take care of you until we get back," Agent Coulson says apologetically.

"And if I don't want to?" the old man in question asks stiffly, slowly turning to glare at the agents.

"We should be back by the time the tests are done," Agent Coulson reassures the grumpy old scientist, who huffs and returns to the computer, softly muttering curses and swears under his breath.

 **-BREAK-**

The tests take a couple of hours at the most. After what feels like several pints of blood (those damned vampire needles) and a dozen scans later, the agents still aren't back.

"Well, this is fucking shit," the lone scientist grumbles after half an hour of tense waiting. I keep silent, having already gotten into several vicious arguments with the arsehole during the testing.

I'm just seriously not in the mood to snap at that fucker right now.

He strolls over to one of the computers and starts typing on the keyboard.

"What are you doing?" I ask him, having long been feeling the effects of boredom.

"My job," he says shortly. I wait for him to elaborate, but he keeps silent as he works hard on the computer.

After about another ten minutes, I risk a peak at what he's writing. Across the monitor, I see what looks like a detailed account of all the scars that can be found on my body- particularly those made by Loki.

He suddenly stands up from the chair; I quickly return to staring at nothing. He looks at me suspiciously for a moment, and turns his attention to one of the few fancy microscopes in the room. I look back to the monitor only to find that he'd shut it down, making the screen look pitch black and unwelcoming.

With a defeated sigh, I sit down on one of the chairs near the computer, and look around the laboratory. I don't recognise any of the machines or chemicals; they're all alien and unusual. In fact, one of the weird objects on the counter top in the centre of the room actually _does_ look like an alien...

"What did he do to you?" I hear the old scientist say. His light brown eyes are now fixed on my face. I stare at him for a moment, before realising what he must mean.

"Oh, he just froze me," I answer flippantly, waving a hand at my scarred forearm. He looks at me disbelievingly at my nonchalance.

"He didn't _completely_ freeze me," I add on belatedly. He huffs a mocking laugh, and shuts the microscope off.

"From what I've seen, the cells of the scar tissue seem to be completely natural, but we'll keep you in a nearby guest room to further observe you." he says as a matter of fact. I stare at him in horrified confusion.

"What was that?" I hint for him to elaborate. Surely I heard it wrong.

"We'll need to keep you in one of the guest rooms to make sure there's no sudden magical reactions," he says, sounding like he's about to drag me off regardless of my opinion.

"No fucking way," I glare at him with my arms folded in refusal. "I was told that I'll be taken here and brought straight back home."

"Of course you'll be taken home," the scientist says briskly, pointedly opening the main door into the lab for me- a door that, though made of metal, isn't the sliding sort of door that most of the others seem to be. "After the experiments are-"

"I said no," I stubbornly refuse. "I was barely home for a day, and I'm already getting kidnapped all over again!"

"I'm not kidnapping you," he hisses sharply.

"Well, what the fuck else do you call holding me against my fucking will?" I shout, starting to feel a minor panic attack setting in.

First Loki kidnaps me, I fall for him, then I lose him, and _then_ I get kidnapped all over again by my supposed saviours.

 _Figures._

"We're _helping_ you, you stupid little-" a loud high pitched alarm starts blaring, cutting off his exclamation.

"Shit," he says just as the door swings shut and forcefully locks itself, pushing the doctor back into the room..

"Fuck!" he cries out, holding his arm close to himself.

"What was that?" I ask him cautiously. The alarm has now been silenced, and all I can hear is the doctor's soft swears and gasps of pain.

"Must be one of S.H.I.E.L.D's many enemies," he finally says gruffly.

I stare at the scientist in horror, dreading what an enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D would look like. I'm guessing something either incredibly monstrous, or just a bunch of men dressed in opposing colours.

I faintly hear what sounds like gun fire in the distance.

"I'm sure they'll have this mess sorted out pretty soon," he says, now sitting on the floor with his legs drawn up. He's starting to look incredibly tired.

The gun fire stops, and the silence starts again. I watch the doctor cradle his arm to his body as he stares towards the ground, his eyes drooping slightly in exhaustion.

"How's the arm?" I ask him. He shoots me a glare and protectively holds it closer to his body.

"It's fine," he says. I frown at the quickly growing patch of red on his coat sleeve.

"That doesn't look fine to me," I say carefully. He covers the patch with his other arm and darkens his glare.

"Don't worry about it, girl," he growls, before turning this eyes back to the floor again. Minutes tick by in silence, and nothing else can be heard from outside. The red patch has now noticeably migrated to his other arm.

"You should put some pressure on that," I say, remembering the line from the countless action films I've seen in the past.

"I'm fine," he quietly says again, his eyes now alarmingly closed.

"Bullshit," I say. "I'm not sharing this laboratory with a fucking corpse."

"Don't you know of any other swearwords?" he asks softly. "At least be original with it."

"Fuck you and fix it," I snap, feeling more than a little horrified at the amount of blood now covering his sleeves. With a sigh, he lifts his eyes to mine.

"Alright," the stubborn bastard finally says. "Just... Pass me a towel from the top drawer over there," he flicks his eyes to the large counter in question.

I quickly scramble over to the counter and pull it open, to found several bright white towels inside that are just begging for some irreparable staining. I quickly pull several out and return to the injured scientist, throwing the towels in his directions.

"Fuckin,'" he grumbles as he roughly pulls the towels away from him, except for one. As he pulls the others away, however, I'm treated to the discovery of what he was hiding with his uninjured arm- that being the dreadful state of his other arm.

"Fuck!" I screech, causing him to violently jump into a more alert state. "Shit! You're fucking dying, aren't you?" I ask him as he starts putting pressure on the place where his hand and half his arm used to be. He glares up at me as the gushing blood starts to seep into the towel.

"Is there anything you can do to? I don't know, maybe grow a new arm or something?" I ask him in mounting horror. I'm quite surprised that he doesn't seem to be reacting more to the loss of limb, aside from the wincing he's doing as he presses the towel on his newly obtained stump. He gives a humourless chuckle as his eyelids start to droop again.

"What do you take me for? Some kind of alien or lab experiment?" he asks me softly. "No, I'm the one who holds the sharp thingies and jab them with the doo-dads." His voice is almost a whisper now.

 _Holy fuck it._

I quickly start rushing around the lab in search for something. A magic serum, the first aid kit (because this place _must_ have one), or maybe even a complicated device of some kind. I open and slam countless cupboards and drawers, before finding something that has some promise.

My logic is that this is S.H.I.E.L.D. I (as part of the general public) might not know much about this top secret not-so-secret government agency, but surely they've been putting some research into advanced healing and the extension of their soldiers' life expectancies.

After what feels like hours of flicking through drawer after drawer and stack after stack of instruction sheets, I finally find something promising.

"Okay, I think I've got it," I say a little breathlessly as I rush back to the scientist's side. A small shift of his head is the only sign I get that he's still alive.

"Okay, so... Put the pointy bit here," I mutter as I try to hurriedly assemble the gadget with shaking hands that are wet with sweat. "And- er- the round thing has to... er..." I freeze, staring down at the instructions.

It's just hit me. I don't know what to do.

 _He's going to die._

The dying scientist's breathing is now noticeably more shallow, and his skin has gone horrifically pale. He already looks dead.

 _"Shit!"_ I whisper as I look down at the unfinished contraption in my hands. The sounds of gunfire outside the door has picked up again; breaking the deathly silence in the lab.

"Deep breath, Shana," I whisper as I flick the instruction sheet flat in my hand. "Just take a deep breath and don't rush it."

I've never been good at rushing things. In fact, the more I rush, the more likely I am to make mistakes. But the problem is, this only makes me work slower, and slow is the one thing I can't be right now.

The instructions could still be entirely in Latin for all the sense they make to me (in fact, I'm pretty sure that some of the longer words _are_ in Latin), but some sections are slowly beginning to make some sort of sense to me.

 _Well, time to make a guess at this,_ I think as I start putting pieces together using nothing but a black and white picture for reference.

"Hold on just a second longer, you arsehole," I mutter as the minutes tick by and the device slowly looks more like the one in the picture on the paper.

"You even still alive?" I ask the dying man as I examine what I've assembled. All I get in response is complete silence from him.

Well, the pointy bit is pointy and the sticky outy bit looks kind of like the handle I think it's supposed to be.

But, fuck it. It's now or never.

I stick the pointed end of the device into the wound (as I _think_ that's what the instructions are asking me to do) and press a couple of buttons on the side.

I anxiously wait for some sort of reaction from the half dead man, who still seems to be growing paler by the minute. But no such luck. His eyes stubbornly remain closed, and his breathing stays shallow and nearly imperceptible.

"Did... it work?" I ask myself after several moments of there being absolutely no difference whatsoever.

Well, I guess that's a lie. His stump's now completely covered with a thick layer of some disgusting looking green hard stuff, but at least he doesn't seem to be bleeding to death.

"So, are you are going to wake up now?" I ask the unconscious scientist.

It's funny, because I would have thought that a top secret government agency such as this would have definitely invented a quick acting, cure all drug for all your common battle injuries.

Well, at least it solved the problem of him bleeding out.

Now all that's left to do is for me to bide my time and wait for rescue to inevitably arrive.

 **-BREAK-**

I impatiently twiddle my thumbs as I wait for the damned doors to finally open. However, all I'm left with is the same sorry sight as two hours ago (I've been keeping a _very_ close eye on the clock).

Damn fuck it, they said this shouldn't last too long! Fucking S.H.I.E.L.D with their fucking enemies and their damned fucking...

 **-BREAK-**

Three hours. There's only so much time I'm willing to spend scared and stressed, and I think we've just about flown past it.

I throw another small balled up piece of paper and hope that _this time_ it lands _and stays_ on one of the old man's closed eyelids.

Nope. It hits his mouth again, instead.

"Fuuuuuck..."

 **-BREAK-**

It's been five hours and I still can't seem to hit his eyelid. Am I cursed? Will I ever manage such a monumental task?

I narrow my eyes as I take aim and fire, only to hit his eyebrow. The small ball mockingly hops away to join its numerous fallen friends on the floor.

 _Hmm... Maybe I'm setting myself too big of a task. Maybe it's just not physically possible to do this..._

With a reluctant sigh, I give up on my mission and instead decide to pick up a nearby elastic band.

In the last couple or so hours, I haven't managed to make so much as a single paper ball cling to his eyelid, but I've managed to make several hit it. I'll consider that a win for now, so now it's time to up the game a bit.

I wonder if I could slingshot a paper ball onto his eyelid using this rubber band?

 **-BREAK-**

"Something, something, something, something, blah-dee-blah blah blah blah," I sing at the top of my voice as I slowly rotate around on one of the lab chairs whilst staring up at the pure white ceiling.

"Blah blah, something, blah blah, something, blabby blab blab blab."

Once I get out of here, I swear that I'll look into the lyrics for all of Lady Gaga's songs.

"Russian Roulette's something or another, something with a gun!" I keep on singing though, with my eyes frequently checking the clock. Unfortunately, the scientist still hasn't moved much under the small mountain of paper balls.

With a groan, I quit my pathetic attempt at singing and slowly stand up. I walk towards the old man, kicking away the small balls of paper as I go.

"Hey, it's been hours. Time to wake up, now," I moan at him. Either he's ignoring me or we seriously need some help really soon, because he doesn't so much as twitch in response.

"Oi, you old prick!" I yell in his face. His face twitches a little, but other than that, it looks like he's completely oblivious.

With a frown, I raise my hand to sharply smack him across his face in the hopes of shocking him awake, as I'm still not entirely certain that he's still alive. He could die at any moment, for all I know!

Yet when I smack his face, he still doesn't wake up

"Well, shit. It always works in the movies," I grumble to myself in the silence of the room.

I sit down next to him in a depressing mixture of boredom and defeat and watch as the seconds tick on by. My eyes grow heavy as I watch the hypnotic rotation of the second hand.

God, I hope we're not going to die in this damned lab.


	24. The Man From Texas (?)

**A/N: Very sorry for the short delay, but this chapter was even harder to write than the one before it. That being said, I'm sorry if it seems a little sub standard (though I'm apparently worrying over nothing). : )**

 **Also, just a little warning that chapters might be a little slower during this part (and a little further along, now that I thing about it). The reason for this is because I've having some difficulty putting this part of the story into words, but I still want to make sure that want I eventually cough up at least has some logic behind it rather than being a mangled mess of words.**

 **I really do hope that this chapter wasn't a mangled mess of words and punctuation for you...**

 **Please leave a review when you're finished reading the chapter, and I don't just mean this for the special feeling of popularity it gives us writers. If anything is wrong with this chapter, then I'd appreciate being told about it so that I can make this story as good as I possibly can (even this far into it). If you have nothing bad to say, then I would still appreciate any good comments you might have for my story, or any ideas you might have for the future (like what the hell I can do with all these new characters I just _had_ to throw in there in the spur of the moment *facepalm*). : )**

 **Chapter 24**

 **The Man From Texas (?)**

I wake up to the sound of gunfire not too far away from the main door. With a quick glance I see that not only is the scientist still asleep, but the door is also sealed shut.

Hopefully, whoever's on the other side won't care enough to try and pry that door open.

With a drawn out yawn, I glance over to the clock that hangs peacefully ticking on the wall adjacent to me. I'd only been asleep for about three hours. No wonder I have half the mind to tear that door down and give the arseholes on the other side a gift wrapped fist in the face.

To be honest, I'm not very sure why I'm even scared of them to begin with. After all, those cowardly bastards ain't got nothing on Loki! I'm sure the second they wander inside this lab and find an injured scientist and an unarmed woman, they'll just-

A loud crash rings rough the lab as a heavy object impacts the metal door from the other side.

 _Crap!_

I leap to my feet and stare in shocked horror at the door. Quickly snapping out of my panicked daze, I scan the room for the best possible hiding spot. My eyes zero in on the cupboard door towards the back of the room.

Another bang echoes through the room, pressuring me to run for the door.

But wait! I quickly turn to the scientist after having nearly forgotten about him. However, I don't know how long it would take for the people on the other side to come swarming in, and the old man seems like he'd be a burden.

Yet another bang punches through the room.

 _Damn it! I wasn't born to be a hero!_

But my feet still hesitantly step towards the unconscious scientist. I'm only a few steps away from the cupboard door, but I'm sure I could drag him over quick enough. He doesn't look too heavy, and the door looks pretty well sealed...

With a loud bang, I look towards the door, and find it looking incredibly bent out of place. There's one more explosive roar from the door, before it comes flying into the lab with a smokey trail.

 _Oh, fuck that!_ I think as I swiftly turn towards the cupboard.

 _Everyone man and woman for themselves!_ I quickly cover the few steps separating me from the cupboard door, and close it as quickly and quietly as I can once inside of it.

From inside the lab, I hear some muffled footsteps as the people who blew down the door make their way into the room.

"You," I hear a deep masculine voice say commandingly, followed by some muffled footsteps. "Start searching there. You, start over there."

Well, that's rude. I'm sure his friends wouldn't very much like him calling them by 'you.' What kind of boss is he that he doesn't even know their names? Unless...

Are these some kind of superpowered bad guys that has such a huge following that this bloke has too many people following his orders to be able to keep track and remember all his followers' names?

I hear the sound of doors opening and slamming shut throughout the lab. They're obviously searching for something, which must be why they're inside this science lab. Are they looking for that slightly pathetic miracle cure I gave the old man? Or maybe some other thing that I haven't yet found inside of this top secret state of the art laboratory?

"Take the scientist back to the boss," the leader says again, his voice thick with a heavy American accent (Texan, maybe?).

"But he's sleeping and injured," one of the underlings argues softly. Even I raise an eyebrow at that weak argument, as the old man is obviously either unconscious or dead. _Not_ sleeping.

There is a short moment of silence from the lab as I anticipate the grand explosion to come.

"The boss wants _all_ of the scientists brought to her," is the reply that meets my ears instead. "No exceptions, and no excuses."

The sounds of cupboard doors being opened and closed is now starting to sound uncomfortably close. I quickly look around in the hopes of finding a good hiding place, but all I can see is a basic desk (that's basically a table with a computer on top) and draws filled with all sorts of dodgy stuff lining the walls.

I frown thoughtfully at the only other table in the room, as it's slightly covered by a lab coat in just the right sort of way that I might just be able to get away with hiding underneath it, when an idea comes storming to my mind.

As quietly as I can, I hurry over to the table and grab the discarded lab coat with extreme care.

"We need to hurry this up, or she'd be pretty pissed with you guys," the main guy says darkly from the other side of the door. The sound of doors quickly opening and being slammed shut immediately increases as they draw even closer to where I nervously stand in what I hope is the least most obvious part of the room.

 _Maybe I_ should _try crawling under that desk..._

"I'm sorry, Sir, but the scientist is just too heavy for me," whines the voice that had earlier diagnosed the scientist to be sleeping.

"Then drag him for all I care," comes the cold response from the main dude.

 _What an arsehole! You know, I wonder if the bastard even_ knows _how to-_

Slam!

The moment has arrived. I watch in fear as a man who's armed with a pretty big gun saunters into the room.

"Found another one," he calls to his boss as he steps into the room.

This is the moment to act. I could run for the hills and hope for the best, but chances are that they'll just shoot me down for my efforts.

I could also act like a good little hostage and do everything that they tell me to, but I couldn't even do that whilst being threatened by an all powerful god. I don't think them having guns would make me act any more submissive, either...

I could always act like a scientist and see where things go. I've got the coat on, and a couple or so months of college for back up.

They obviously need the scientists, so I don't even have to act like a good little hostage victim, because they aren't allowed to kill me.

Perfect!

"Hey! What the fu-?!" I start to yell in alarm as he roughly grabs my arm and tries to drag me towards the door.

"I could be rougher if you want," he says in an insultingly bored tone.

 _Ooooh, you've asked for it, now!_

"Well, you can go shove a Bunsen Burner up your arse and stick it on, you dickhead!" I shout at his face, considering it a good enough alternative to fighting for now. He looks at me in surprise as we steps through the door and into the laboratory.

"What was that?" he asks softly- either shocked or angry at my shouting.

"You heard me, you wanker!" I stubbornly shout back with a weak pull against his grip to accentuate my anger at being yanked about the place like a misbehaving dog.

"Go drink a beaker full of Sodium Hydroxide, you bastard! You'd probably think it was a refreshing glass of water, you're such a dumb fuck!" I snap with a defiant glare. He frowns menacingly as his grip on my arm tightens painfully.

"You little bitch," he growls softly, just as an unusually deep sound penetrates the silence. The face of the man gripping my arm twitches alarmingly as the noise increases.

Turning in bewilderment towards the sound, I see a sight that I honestly wasn't expecting at all.

Standing near the entrance of the room is a man dressed in a neat navy coloured suit. His dark brown hair is perfectly combed away from his face, and his clear blue eyes shine as he, of all things, _laughs_ cheerfully at me.

"Don't ignore me," the man holding me arm growls warningly under his breath, successfully drawing my attention back to him.

"You're the scum of the Earth for all I care, you fucking prick," I snap back at him. "You damned pervert, touching a lady without her permission. Pricks like you sicken me." I tilt my head up so I can sneer disgustedly down my nose at him, even though he's about a head taller than me.

As the man's expression darkens even further, his boss laughs even louder as he walks towards us.

"I've got to say," the leader says between chuckles once he's standing in front of me. "You're actually the first scientist I've encountered to have fought back like this."

"Yeah, I'm just a Hell of a scientist, I guess," I say with a casual shrug.

 _Shana White-Friar: master spy!_

"I kinda like you," the boss says appreciatively with a bright grin on his face that's surprisingly only slightly creepy. "You've got more balls than any of the men I've got with me."

"Wait, they're _men?"_ I ask with false shock. He releases another loud laugh and begins to pull me away from the other guy, who reluctantly lets go of my captive arm with his newly freed hand twitching as he honestly looks close to strangling me.

"If I weren't already married, I'd be falling head over heels for you!" the handsome leader declares as he leads me towards the main door, where the two other members of his gang stand with the unconscious scientist held between them.

 _Well, at least he's already married,_ I think as we walk past the two somewhat bewildered looking young men.

Granted that it's not exactly a great improvement on the situation, (not to mention the fact that I've now lost a very vital weapon in my womanly arsenal), but at least I don't have to worry about getting jumped by these freaks, now.

 **-BREAK-**

The small group of armoured testosterone slowly leads me through corridor after corridor, presumably escorting me towards the centre of the ship. Every time I ask them where we're going, I'm either given a secretive smirk by the boss (who still has his arm wrapped firmly around me), or told to shut up by the irrate man who earlier attempted to crush my arm with his bare hand.

I've got to wonder, what is it with my luck with men? It doesn't necessarily end up going _badly_ , per se.

No, more like...

...Weird...

I sneak a glance at the surprisingly dashing criminal walking beside me, supposedly just as he was sneaking a glance towards me. He grins widely at me just as we reach the end of the corridor.

"Please tell me we're there now," I say as I break eye contact to examine the smooth steel doors now in front of us.

Doors that I honestly don't remember from my tour of the base.

"I'm tired from all this walking," I whimper theatrically. "My feet hurt, I'm hungry, my head aches a little, and I really need a-" I break off from talking with a long, loud yawn.

Looks like three hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough time for a human sloth like me, as that yawn was actually the one genuine thing from the list of complaints.

"Well, it's a good thing we're here," the tall man standing beside me says cheerfully as he nods to the one worker not currently carrying someone.

"Damned whiney little bitch," I just about hear the grumpy man grumble as he quickly types a code into the device by the door to open it for the rest of us.

"You know, I'm kinda surprised at the small amount of English scientists there are on this floating heap of scrap," the group's leader says as we walk into yet another pristine looking lab.

Except, what makes this lab completely different from the other one we left behind us is that it's completely filled with what seems to be the entire ship's supply of scientists, all scurrying around doing what appeared to be separate projects.

My eyes flick from one white lab coat to the next- one middle aged woman in a lab coat and goggles shakily mixes some kind of clear liquid in a beaker whilst pouring in what looks like some sort of disgusting yellow slime. Next to her stands a man who appears to be tinkering with a similar device to what I healed the old scientist with.

Meanwhile, over on the other side of the room, I can see several of them crowding around a loud noisy machine that kind of looks and sounds like it's moments away from self destructing.

But aside from the bewildering variety of experiments going on in the lab, the strangest thing that immediately grabs my attention is the near total lack of conversation in this laboratory full of people.

"Why's it so quiet?" I ask the man in the suit during a pause in his somewhat insulting barrage of theories on the lack of English scientists encountered on the ship. It's _obviously_ because S.H.I.E.L.D is an American agency that the vast majority of their workers also happen to be American- _not_ because us Brits are an inbred bunch of superstitious nutjobs!

... Though, that might have a little bit to do with it...

"Well, I'd say it's so quiet because these smart people don't want to go pissing off the big boss," he explains simply.

"The big boss being the woman you mentioned earlier, I'm guessing?" I ask him with the philosophy that bluntness wins the day.

"Someone has a big pair of ears on them," he says approvingly.

This man is kind of confusing me. I get the feeling that he shouldn't be nearly this appreciative of my personality or my questions. Do I really have some weird kind of luck with the opposite gender, or am I just some kind of freak magnet?

"I take it she's some whole new level of freaky shit, then?" I ask him, admittedly a little excited to see this ultimate boss lady.

Yes, I know I'm a little unhinged, but there's something a girl's got to admire in a woman that can have a whole legion of men (and scientists) quivering in terror at the mere mention of them.

"No, not _nearly_ that bad," the man beside me says with a slight chuckle. I begin to relax just slightly (though that arm that's now tightly rested around my waist is really unnerving me).

"She doesn't bite as deeply as she lets on," he explains as we continue walking through the room without pause towards yet another damned metal door. "All she'd actually do is maybe rip a limb off at the worst, and pull some clumps of your hair out at best," we reach the door; it opens welcomingly.

"Wait, what?" I squeak just as the door closes behind our little group.

"Evan," a soft feminine voice says from deeper in this new room we're now in.

"I see you found more of them. Maybe these ones would actually know how to create it."

 **A/N: In case you were wondering (and if I forget to mention it later), the man from Texas isn't actually from Texas- Shana's just ignorant to accents. XD**

 **I'm thinking maybe New York, but that might be too easy a choice, no?**

 **Also, no offence was meant to my fellow Brits with the comments of us being inbred, nutty and superstitious, but...**

 **... Well...**

 **In _my_ family, we _are_ a little inbred...**

 **... And we _are_ all superstitious and/or extremely eccentric...**

 **... Yeah... But for everyone who's family isn't one, two or all three of the things mentioned above, please accept my apologies for stereotyping.**


End file.
